


Tutelage

by telera



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Ass to Mouth, Blow Jobs, Caning, Cum Eating, Dubious Consent, Ejaculate, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Enemas, Extremely Underage, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Object Insertion, Oral Sex, Rimming, School Uniforms, Shota, Sweet, Teacher-Student Relationship, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/pseuds/telera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In victorian London, a private tutor meets an orphan boy...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that my fics are fantasy ONLY. I do NOT condone in real life some of the things depicted in my stories.
> 
>  
> 
> **IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS KIND OF FIC DON'T READ IT. I WILL NOT PARTICIPATE IN ANY DISCUSSION ABOUT FICTION AND FANTASY. THANK YOU**

Mr. Lecter had been a private tutor for the past twenty years now, and it was safe to say that he had taught all kinds of pupils. From the lazy and rebellious to the meek and studious, all had learnt discipline with him and had grown up to become proud members of society. His reputation as an excellent if vey strict tutor preceded him, and the number of wealthy families in London who required his services had been growing at a steady rhythm throughout the years.

 

That was the reason why Hannibal had become very picky of late, and he only chose those pupils that he could shape and model to his taste. The kids had to be a challenge somehow, Hannibal was tired of dull boys and girls who could easily learn Arithmetic and Latin at any school. Few had earned the privilege of having such a renown tutor in the past months, and the waiting list of applicants had become quite long now that the summer holidays were over.

 

Going through the preliminary interviews was a tiresome necessity, and it almost always occupied a full week. Hannibal met in private with the potential pupil, and if he or she gained his approval then he met with the parents or guardians to settle the arrangement. It usually took him only a couple minutes to gauge the personality of the kid, and a few questions and tests to determine intellectual ability, willingness to learn and most important of all, good manners.

 

Today's candidates had all been a disappointment, pretty much as those he had met yesterday and the day before that. Boring, for the most part, some too shy and others far too insolent. Hannibal sighed as he read the last name on his list. One Will Graham, a boy who lived at St. Peter's Orphanage and that the authorities had selected for an interview with him.

 

This was all part of an agreement most private tutors in London subscribed to. They tutored one of the least socially favoured children during a year, provided he or she merited the opportunity of receiving a private education. They had to be bright and talented, a diamond in the rough, one might say. The government paid the fees in those cases, and so a poor kid was granted the opportunity of accessing an education that would have been otherwise out of reach.

 

Hannibal had been turning down orphans for the past six years now. He applied the same strict standards to all candidates, whether they came from rich, noble families or from the orphanage, but the truth was that almost none of the poor kids passed his tests. There had been pleasant surprises, of course. Abigail Hobbs had been one of them. But the odds told him this Will Graham would likely return to the orphanage after their meeting, as many others before him.

 

A polite knock on his office door told Hannibal that the boy was ready to see him, so he put down his fountain pen and said:

 

'Come in'.

 

He never rose to open the door himself, instead he preferred to watch from behind his desk as the pupil approached him. These first moments were key in his assessment, and he usually learnt very valuable information from the way the kid walked up to his desk.

 

The doorknob turned then, and a short, skinny boy entered his office. Hannibal's first thought was that he was badly malnourished. The orphanage report said that he was twelve, but he looked younger and ill. He was too pale, with dark circles under his eyes and a wild mop of curls that been unsuccessfully combed with too much haste. The boy was wearing short brown pants and very worn out socks that showed a couple of rather bruised and scratched knees. He wore no waistcoat or tie, but his shirt looked relatively clean. The same couldn't be said of his brown, ragged jacket, obviously a second hand garment of an adult that had been cut and sewn to fit him.

 

'Good morning, Mr. Lecter' he dutifully greeted. His voice sounded fearful and hesitant, and Hannibal didn't miss the way he avoided eye contact with him.

 

'Good morning, Will. Please, take a seat'.

 

The boy obeyed, sitting on the chair in front of the desk and fixing his eyes on the polished wood.

 

'I've heard from your teacher at the orphanage, Will, and she says you solve arithmetic problems very well. And you also have a great memory. Would you like to be home schooled?'

 

The boy frowned and squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

 

'I don't have a home, sir'.

 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. He always asked the same question to check whether the pupil was open to receiving a private education at home or if it was just the wish of the parents to boast of a private tutor. The latter was usually the case.

 

'That could be arranged' Hannibal continued 'I usually teach pupils at their homes, but in your case you'd live here, with me. I have an extra room a girl like you occupied some years ago'.

 

The boy looked around him with a shy and anxious gesture. The office was unlike any place he had ever seen, lavishly decorated and full of expensive furniture. There were many books and a big abacus by the desk, and Will flinched when he saw a wooden ruler by the tutor's hand.

 

'I'm going to ask you a few questions now, Will' Hannibal continued 'And I'd like you to answer them as best you can. What is the accusative singular of _dominus, domini?'_

 

 _'Dominum'_ he whispered.

 

Hannibal was not expecting a correct answer, and he raised an eyebrow appreciatively.

 

'And the nominative plural of _bonus, bona, bonum_?'

 

 _'Boni, bonae, bona'_.

 

Hannibal half-closed his eyes at the boy.

 

'If I say _quarum_ , what can you tell me about this noun?'

 

Will hesitated for a moment, then he started to wring his hands nervously. He lifted his head minutely, and peeked a furtive look at the stern tutor.

 

'I, hm, I--' he swallowed hard and ducked his head again 'Mr. Letcer, sir, _quarum_... Sorry, but it's not a noun'.

 

'Oh' Hannibal said as a little smile tugged at the corner of his lips 'What is it, then?'

 

'It's--' Will bit his bottom lip and risked another look at him 'It's the genivite plural of the femenine pronoun _qui, quea, quod_. Meaning, who, which, that'.

 

Hannibal's smile turned wider, and not just because the answer was correct. Most pupils fell into his little trap, proving they lacked a basic Latin knowledge, and those who did know there was a mistake in the question were sometimes too scared to correct him, proving they didn't deserve his time.

 

'Very good. Can you recite the present imperfect of the verb _voco, vocare_?'

 

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it shut.

 

'Indicative or Subjunctive?'

 

Hannibal leant forward intrigued. All pupils took the indicative tense for granted.

 

'Indicative, please'.

 

Will nodded, but paused again before speaking.

 

'Active or passive voice?'

 

Hannibal snorted softly. They boy definitely had his attention now.

 

'Passive' he said to see if he could actually recite it.

 

Will nodded and said in a little voice:

 

 _'Vocabar, vocabaris, vocabatur, vocabamur, vocabamini, vocabantur'_.

                                                                                      

The answer was correct, very much so. None of the kids Hannibal had interviewed during the last days would have been able to guess half of it. Hannibal leant back in his desk chair and considered the skinny boy thoughtfully. There was something under his dishevelled, scruffy appearance, something fierce that spoke of a great resilience and strength. Hannibal recognized the survival instinct for what it was, a drive without which little Will couldn't have possibly survived in the orphanage all these years.

 

'I'd like you to do these exercises now' Hannibal said handing him the arithmetic problems. Will swallowed hard and frowned at the sheet of paper, which read:

 

_1)  £      s       d_

_4     12     8 1/4 +_

_2     14     2 1/4  +_

_1      3      5 1/4 =_

 

_2) A gentleman left his eldest daughter £1500 more than the youngest, and her fortune was 11 thousand pounds, 11 hundred pounds and £11; what is the eldest sister's fortune and how much did the father leave them in total?_

 

The first one was easy, he was very good with additions. Each number had a colour in his mind, and Will liked to put them together to see what the final picture would be. The second looked more difficult, not because of the numbers, but because most words didn't make sense to him. They were colourless and dead, and he couldn't quite distinguish some letters from others. That was why he always ended up on the corner of the orphanage class with the dunce's hat on his head, because despite his age he couldn't read properly yet. Will liked Latin because he remembered the long list of declensions and conjugations when his teacher recited them aloud, but reading English was painfully difficult.

 

'Ready?' Mr. Lecter said handing him a nib pen and pointing at the abacus by the desk.

 

'Yes' Will said in a little voice, and he grabbed the pen awkwardly. He was used to writing on a slate, and even there his handwriting was terrible.

 

Hannibal watched the boy as he left his chair to work with the abacus. He required a correct answer to at least one of the problems to accept any child as a pupil, and it was usually the first addition that most kids got right. Since it would take Will some time to solve it, Hannibal continued the letter he was writing, looking up every now and then to see the boy chew on his bottom lip as he moved the beads of the abacus.  

 

'I've finished, sir' Will said after a while, and he left the sheet of paper on the oak desk.

 

Hannibal wrinkled his nose. The paper was full of ink stains and deletions, very far from the neatness and elegance he demanded in all tasks. The boy's numbers were a mess, illegible in many cases, but he had underlined the results, and Hannibal frowned when he read them.

 

'£8. 10s. 3d and 3 farthings. That is right for the first addition. As for the second problem...' Hannibal paused.

 

_"She had £12,111. She had £13,611. He had £25,722"._

 

The results were right, surprisingly so. Only two pupils had been able to solve both problem correctly, and one had been Abigail. But there was something odd in the way Will had written his answer. As if only numbers mattered to him, and not the imagined characters of the problem.

 

Hannibal considered the boy closely as he tried to rub away the ink that stained his fingers. He definitely had an aptitude for Arithmetic and Latin, and that should be enough. It had to be enough, if Hannibal was to be fair, and he always was. But he sensed there was something else to this boy, something rather unique and peculiar. He was very different from Abigail, and Hannibal was almost sure he had none of her... skills. But it would be very rewarding to discover little Will's abilities. To nourish them, and to see them flourish.

 

'Excellent' he said leaving the paper on his desk 'And congratulations, Will. I'll talk to the orphanage prefect so that you can move right away. Hopefully this very same afternoon'.

 

In his experience, such good news always earned a smile of proud satisfaction from his pupils. He still remembered Abigail's. But Will didn't smile at all, he actually looked rather anguished.

 

'Is there something wrong?' Hannibal asked, and to his surprise, the boy's eyes filled with tears.

 

'Winston' he whispered.

 

Hannibal looked at him blankly.

 

'And who is Winston? Your brother? A friend?'

 

'No, sir' Will sniffled 'He's my dog. If I come here he'll die. I'm the only one wh-who feeds him'.

 

Hannibal was pensive for a brief moment.

 

'You give him your food?'

 

The boy nodded and rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

 

'Half of it'.

 

That explained the boy's malnourishment, and the pungent smell of his ragged clothes. Hannibal considered the issue, and he then left his chair.

 

'I'm sorry, Will, but I allow no dogs in the house. You'll sleep in--'

 

'B-but sir' he interrupted with a stammer 'Winston will be no trouble. And no cost to you at all, I'll give him a little of my food and he is very good and he doesn't bark and--'

 

'Mr. Graham' the tutor warned in a severe tone, and Will ducked his head immediately. His teacher slapped him on the back of his neck or twisted his ear if he spoke out of turn, and he flinched in fear as Hannibal circled the big, oak desk.

 

'The rules are clear Mr. Graham. I do _not_ allow dogs in my house. And unless there is something of your lesson you don't understand, I do _not_ repeat myself'.

 

'I'm sorry sir' Will muttered, and then again, for good measure 'I'm sorry, sir'.

 

'Good. I'll write a note to the prefect with all the necessary arrangements, and I'll send somebody to pick you up this afternoon'.

 

Will remained silent in his chair for a little longer, his frown knitted as if he were lost in some deep thought. Then he jumped to the floor and whispered:

 

'Thank you sir. I... I am very grateful. But I won't come'.

 

Hannibal stared at the boy and raised an eyebrow.

 

'What did you say, Will?'

 

The boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other and fixed his eyes on the rug.

 

'I won't- I won't come here, Mr. Lecter. Not without Winston'.

 

The boy's reply was so unexpected it took Hannibal a long moment to react. In all his years as a private tutor no single pupil had ever rejected him. Sure, the first weeks were always difficult, at least until the student got used to his strict discipline. But he had never received a single _No_ in his career, and watching the skinny, talented boy speaking it so easily made him clench his jaw.

 

'Mr. Graham, I'm not sure if you fully understand how lucky you are. You have an unusual talent, and an opportunity any boy your age would dream of. You'll leave the orphanage to live in a proper house and sleep in a proper bed. I'll take care of your education for a full year, during which you will be fed and clothed. You have a second chance to better yourself, Mr. Graham, and they don't come easily in life'.

 

The boy stood very still, pondering the words of the tutor while picking on his thumb nail nervously. He looked endearingly young and vulnerable, but Hannibal could read his determination in the way he tensed up before speaking.

 

'I understand, sir' the boy looked up then, and he met Hannibal's gaze for the first time in the interview 'But Winston is all I have. I can't leave him'.

 

His voice quavered with emotion, and he rubbed a tear with the back of his sleeve.

 

'Then you are dismissed, Mr. Graham' Hannibal sentenced.

 

The boy sniffled and turned around, drooping his shoulders and dragging his feet as he made his way to the door of the office.

 

'Good morning, sir' he said as he was about to leave, as if he had suddenly remembered something important.

 

'Good morning, Mr. Graham' Hannibal replied.

 

The door clicked shut then, and Hannibal sat on his desk chair again. There were no more interviews today, and it was just as good. He was itchily upset about what had just happened, and the feeling pricked sttubornly at the back of his mind. He refused to believe that a poor, rickety orphan had just said _No_ to the prospect of bed, food and an excellent education at his hands. And all for a lousy, flea-ridden puppy. It was unheard of. It was intolerable.

 

Hannibal's nostrils flared with anger, and as he considered the sheet of paper the boy had filled with ink stains and brilliant numbers, he knew the issue was far from over.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm overwhelmed by the very positive and encouraging comments this story has received- you guys are the best there's ever been! ♥ Please, check the updated tags and read at your own risk! No complaints accepted beyond this point.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

 

St. Peter's Orphanage was located in one of the poorest quarters in London. Hannibal hardly ever went there, he had nothing to do in a slum full of beerhouses, criminals and prostitutes. The stench of the streets was appalling, and even inside the carriage he could smell the rotting and misery around him.

                                                                          

After a bumpy, uncomfortable ride, the carriage stopped in front of an old, ominous building. The orphanage had once been a nun convent, but it was now shabby and derelict, with many broken windows and a roof that looked as if it were about to collapse.

 

'Wait for me, please' he said to the driver as he got off.

 

'Of course, sir' the burly man replied, and Hannibal sauntered to the old, rusty fence of the orphanage. The children were playing at the yard, crying and laughing in excitement with a ball made of rags and a worn out rope. Will was not among them, though, and it took Hannibal a moment to realize the boy was sitting on a corner of the yard, rocking to and fro slowly as he held something very close to his chest.

 

'Hello' Hannibal said addressing the kids 'What can you tell me about that boy over there?'

 

The children stopped playing for a moment and looked in awe at the gentleman by the fence.

 

'That's mad Will' a girl sniggered.

 

'Oh' Hannibal said raising an eyebrow 'And why do you call him that?'

 

'Because he's crazy, sir!' a boy replied.

 

'He speaks to thin air' another added.

 

'And he sees ghosts at night' a kid with a bad limp said 'Nobody wants to play with him'.

 

The little commotion Hannibal had created caught the attention of the rest of the children, who crowded against the fence to see the wealthy gentleman. The teacher of the orphanage was soon alerted to his presence, and so was Will, who left his corner with a hairy bundle in his arms to see what was happening.

 

'Good morning, sir' the teacher greeted through the fence 'How can I help you?'

 

'Good morning' Hannibal replied taking his hat off 'I'm here to speak to the prefect, Mr. Paterson'.

 

'Of course, sir'.

 

The teacher opened the fence with a big iron key that hanged from her apron, and when Hannibal entered the yard the kids took a step back to make some room for him. 

 

'Is Mr. Paterson expecting you, sir?' the teacher said as they walked up the gravel path to the main building.

 

'I'm afraid not. But I need to discuss an urgent matter with him'.

 

Hannibal opened the door of the main building and gestured for the teacher to go in first, and when he did he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye. The children had returned to their games, but Will was standing on the gravel path, alone and very quiet. And he was looking at him in earnest, as if needing to say something but not daring to speak in front of his teacher.

 

'Could I speak to one of your students, Miss...?'

 

'Spencer' the teacher replied 'Of course, sir. Who should I call?'

 

'Will Graham, please. You sent him for an interview with me last week'.

 

The teacher's eyes grew wide with surprise.

 

'You must be Mr. Lecter then!' she said, and Hannibal bowed his head politely.

 

'It's such an honour to meet you, sir' she said, but her sudden happiness turned to a stern, sour face 'What has Will done, Mr. Lecter? If he misbehaved in any way I'll spank him so hard he won't be able to sit for a week'.

 

'Don't worry, Miss Spencer' Hannibal said hiding with a smile his disgust at her words 'Will was very well-mannered during our interview. And he showed great potential'.

 

'If you say so, sir' the teacher muttered 'Will!'

 

The boy came rushing up the path, and Miss Spencer straightened his jacket briskly.

 

'Look at you, always a mess! And when will you leave that stinky dog once and for all? You know I don't want to see that lousy puppy here'.

 

Will said nothing, only ducked his head and waited for the teacher's inspection to finish.

 

'Now, Mr. Lecter wants to speak to you, so I hope you behave properly. Or else. Do I make myself clear?'

 

'Yes, Miss Spencer' he muttered without looking up.

 

'He's all yours, Mr. Lecter' the teacher said with a little smile 'I'll go inform Mr. Paterson that you are here'.

 

She disappeared into the building, and Hannibal tilted his head at the boy. He looked even paler than last week, and the circles under his eyes had turned darker. Hannibal was about to speak when Will looked up and stared right at him.

 

'Mr. Lecter, Winston is ill. If you help him I'll go live with you'.

 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at the unexpected confession of the boy. It was sincere and honest, there was little doubt that Will was desperate. The puppy in his arms was shaking badly, and Hannibal gestured for Will to show him.

 

'What's wrong with him?' he asked crouching down.

 

'He's ill' Will said, and for all the strength he was trying to muster, he couldn't keep his voice from trembling 'He doesn't want to eat and he's vomiting and there are- like-- white-- _noodles_ coming out of--'

 

Will lifted the puppy's tail and Hannibal saw a few tiny worms around his anus. It was obvious the dog was infested with some parasite, not surprising at all seeing the living conditions in the orphanage were insalubrious at best. It wasn't anything serious, of course, nothing that a little wormwood couldn't cure. But Hannibal wouldn't miss an opportunity like this. After all, it was better than bribing the prefect.

 

'I'm sorry, Will. But I'm afraid Winston is very ill'.

 

The news filled the boy's eyes with tears.

 

'You mean he's- he's going to--'

 

'I can't tell' he said squeezing the boy's shoulder and standing up 'But it doesn't look good. I'm sorry'.

 

'But you could- maybe-- if you-' the boy knitted his brow as he racked his brain for a solution 'Take him to the surgeon?'

 

Hannibal gave him a sad smile.

 

'I'm afraid that's just too expensive, Will. There's nothing I can do'.

 

The boy struggled very hard not to cry, but in the end a tear rolled down his cheek.

 

'Even if I go live with you?'

 

Hannibal stood pensive for a moment, pretending to give the idea some consideration.

 

'You know I don't allow dogs in my house, Will. But maybe... Maybe Winston could live in the coal cellar.'

 

The boy sniffled, watching the tutor with a mixture of hope and anxiety.

 

'You'll have to do something for me, though' Hannibal warned pointing a finger at him.

 

'Anything' the boy said rubbing the tears away and taking a step forward 'Anything, I promise'.

 

Hannibal nodded thoughtfully.

 

'I'm going to speak to Mr. Paterson now, Will, and this is what I want you to do. When he calls you into his office, I want you to tell him what you have just told me. Then I'd like you to sign some papers. You can write your name, right Will?'

 

'Yes, sir'.

 

'Good. If you do as I say then I'm sure I'll find a way to buy some medicine for Winston'.

 

\---

 

Hannibal had brought ten pounds with him, a more than generous sum to convince the prefect to sign the papers that would make Will his ward. Mr. Paterson would no doubt do it for a third of the sum, but Hannibal had decided to spare no expense where the boy was concerned. It would have been easy then to tell Will the orphanage could no longer take care of him, and that the renown tutor had offered to be his legal guardian to prevent him from ending up begging in the streets.

 

But the morning's events had played right into his hands. It would be so much better for his reputation if the boy actually expressed his wish of wanting to live with him. Neither Mr. Paterson or Hannibal needed Will's assent in the matter, of course, but in this way Hannibal would appear as the kind hearted tutor who took in a poor, bright orphan to raise as the son he had never had.

 

The simplicity of it was brilliant. The orphanage would have one less mouth to feed, the boy would see his orphan's dreams come true and Hannibal would train the most brilliant child he had met since Abigail.

 

As Will entered Mr. Paterson's office with Winston in his arms, Hannibal made a mental note to buy the puppy the best leather collar and leash in all London.

 

'Well, well' the prefect said putting all the legal documents in order 'It seems you're a very lucky boy, Will. Mr. Lecter here said you wanted to tell me something?'

 

'Y-yes, Mr. Paterson. I really' he swallowed nervously and looked at Hannibal 'Really want to live with Mr. Lecter. Please, sir. It's an opportunity to- to better myself. And they don't come easily in life'.

 

Hannibal grinned as he heard his very own words repeated by Will. Oh, but the boy was clever.

 

'Are you sure?' Mr. Paterson asked 'You won't be able to come back here again. And you'll live in Mr. Lecter's house until you come of age'.

 

The boy frowned at that, and Hannibal clenched his jaw. The obtuse prefect was about to spoil it all, but luckily for him Winston whined at that moment, a low, pitiful whimper that made Will tense up.

 

'I don't care' the boy said in a firm, determined tone 'I want to go with him'.

 

Mr. Paterson nodded, and he handed Will one of the documents Hannibal's lawyer had prepared. The minor's signature was not strictly necessary in legal terms, but it was a sign of good will that added a moral value to the arrangement.

 

'I can't say I'm sad to see you go, Will' the prefect said stamping everything and blowing a little air over the still fresh ink 'You're going to become a fine gentleman and live a better life than this. But I hope you will pay us a visit one day'.

 

'Thank you, Mr. Paterson' Hannibal said leaving his chair and tucking all the papers into the inside pocket of his coat 'We must leave now. Will? Have you said goodbye to your friends?'

 

The boy shook his head and petted the puppy's ears lovingly.

 

'I don't have any friends here, Mr. Lecter. Only Winston'.

 

'Well' Hannibal said after a tense moment 'Let's go then'.

 

'Goodbye, Will' the old prefect said, and the boy turned around before Hannibal ushered him out of the office.

 

'Goodbye, Mr. Paterson'.

 

\---

 

'Is this your first ride in a carriage?' Hannibal asked as Will looked enthralled through the window.

 

'Yes, sir. It moves so fast!'

 

Hannibal chuckled then, and he got a leather briefcase from under the seat.

 

'I have something for you' he said opening a thermos and pouring a thick, dark cream into the cup 'You must be hungry'.

 

Hannibal handed him the cup and Will looked at it in confusion.

 

'What is it?'

 

'Hot chocolate' Hannibal replied with a smile 'Try it. You'll like it'.

 

'Chocolate' Will muttered in wonderment. He had only seen it on the windows of a confectionary shop when the went to church on Sundays, and he usually spent the rest of the day dreaming about what it would taste like.

 

He dipped his tongue into the cup and inhaled deeply, but just before taking a sip he looked at Hannibal anxiously.

 

'Can Winston have some of it?'

 

'Don't worry' Hannibal said producing a little paper bag from the briefcase 'I have something here for him as well'.

 

Inside there was a brown sausage, and Hannibal cut a bit with his fingers and threw it to the floor of the carriage. The puppy was lying there, covered in a little blanket the driver had lent them, and he ate the meat with ravenous hunger.

 

'Drink your chocolate, Will. It's better while it's still warm'.

 

The boy nodded, and a look of joy transfixed his face after the first sip. He beamed at Hannibal, and his was a smile of pure, unclouded innocence, something Hannibal hadn't seen in many years, not even on Abigail's face.

 

'It's-- it's-- sweet!' the boy cried, and he took another sip, and then another, because they only gave them a sweet tangerine a year in the orphanage, and he had to spend three hours at Christmas mass to get it.

 

Hannibal smiled back at him, and watched in silent contentment as the boy drank the chocolate and a dark line appeared on his upper lip. He hadn't chosen the drink at random, the boy needed a boost of energy until lunch time, and even more so to endure what awaited him when they got home. The chocolate would keep him warm as well, and happy, which was a very important step in their bonding.

 

'Have another cup, Will' Hannibal said as he continued to feed the puppy 'We'll be home soon'.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thermos had already been invented, in case somebody was wondering about that ^^


	3. Chapter 3

 

'Good morning, Dr. Lecter' the  housekeeper said opening the door of the house. The old woman had a strange, funny accent, and a very wrinkled face. She was wearing a black uniform and also a black hairnet, and Will instinctively moved closer to Hannibal when he saw her.

                                                 

'Good morning, Mrs. Gaskin. This is the boy I talked to you about, Will Graham'.

 

'Hello, young master' she said in a cold voice.

 

'He-hello' Will replied entering the house.

 

Hannibal took off his coat and left his hat and cane on a coat stand by the door. There was not a moment to waste, his plan required that he acted quickly.

 

'And this is Winston' he said prying Will's arms open and grabbing the puppy 'Please, take him to the kitchen'.

 

'No!' Will gasped. He hadn't left Winston for a moment in the past few days, feeding him tiny bits of his food and curling around him at nights to keep him warm. But the puppy was already in the hands of the scary woman, and there was nothing Will could do.

 

'Give him a good scrub and make sure he's thoroughly clean' Hannibal instructed 'Use lemon and vinegar for the fleas'.

 

The housekeeper nodded in silence.

 

'But-but—' Will sniffled, watching as his one and only friend disappeared through a dark door.

 

'Don't worry, Will' Hannibal said crouching down to caress his cheek 'Mrs. Gaskin used to be a nurse, she'll take good care of you two. Come, I'll show you to the bathroom'.

 

Hannibal stood up and started to climb the stairs to the second floor. The boy hesitated for a moment, looking longingly at the door through which Winston had vanished. But he had no other choice than to follow the tutor, so he went up the stairs fearing a punishment if he disobeyed.

 

'Here we are' Hannibal announced opening the door and letting Will in. The boy looked in amazement and confusion at the copper bathtub and wash stand. The room was wood panelled with hand painted porcelain tiles, and on the far wall there was an embossed toilet and a china cistern. At first Will didn't know what it was, used as he was to the filthy privy of the orphanage.

 

'I'll tell Mrs. Gaskin you're ready'.

 

And with that Hannibal locked the door, leaving Will alone.

 

'Mr. Lecter!' he heard the boy cry inside the bathroom, but he turned the key twice and put it in his pocket.

 

Hannibal pursed his lips as he went down the stairs. Everything was going according to his plan, but that didn't mean it was easy. Hannibal knew if Will was to bond with him then the boy would have to see him as his friend, a nurturing presence he could turn to for comfort. The hot chocolate had been the first step in that direction, and taking Winston away from him the second. Will needed to be cut off from his friend to turn to Hannibal, a move that would no doubt be sped by his time with Mrs. Gaskin.

 

The old nurse had been working for Hannibal for almost twenty-five years now, and she was fiercefully loyal to the doctor that had saved her life in the cholera outbreak of 1854. She cleaned the house and made sure everything was in order, never intruding on the doctor's privacy and performing her tasks with as much efficiency as discretion. Mrs. Gaskin wasn't very fond of children, so when Dr. Lecter told her she needed to be harsh with Will, she had simply nodded.

 

Hannibal entered his office and clenched his jaw. He would like to be in the bathroom now with Will, comforting him and preparing his bath. There was nothing he'd like most than to wash his hair and then sponge his young body, but the boy needed to be alone and scared, at least for a while. And after all, bathing a pupil was not what a tutor was supposed to do, at least not yet. That was the job for a nanny or governess, so Mrs. Gaskin would bathe the boy in his stead. Then she had orders to cut his hair, trim his nails and rub him with a washcloth soaked in vinegar to rid him of the puppy's fleas.

 

Hannibal opened an oak cabinet and picked a flask of wormwood. Three drops would suffice to kill the dog worms, and he moved to the kitchen to check Mrs. Gaskin's progress. The old nurse had wasted no time, and she had already scrubbed the puppy with soap and vinegar, what made the now soaked Winston look miserable.

 

'Mr. Graham is ready' he said handing her the key of the bathroom, and the housekeeper nodded. She dried the puppy with an old towel and left up the stairs to the second floor.

 

'You' Hannibal said cocking his head at the little dog 'have been of great service to me'.

 

Winston blinked at him and sat on the floor. He was still shivering, and he started to lick his butt insistently.

 

'This will cure you' Hannibal said mashing a bit of soft cheese with a fork and adding the drops of wormwood. He mixed it all in a dish and gave it to Winston, who lapped at it hungrily. The tutor took him then outside, as he knew the puppy wood be pooping for several hours until the parasites died. It wasn't very nice to have his garden soiled in such a way, but Hannibal had decided that putting up with the puppy wouldn't be that much of a nuisance after his success at the orphanage. He checked his pocket watch and lit a long, thin cigarette. He still had a few minutes until the next phase of his plan.

 

\---

 

The view that greeted him when he entered the bathroom was beautiful. Will was sitting on the solid wood table, wearing only an old linen night shirt that belonged to Hannibal while Mrs. Gaskin finished cutting his hair. There were many dark curls on the floor, and without the snoot and muck on his skin, the boy looked endearingly young.

 

'I'm almost done, Dr. Lecter' the housekeeper said cutting one last lock and looking at the kid satisfied. She then drizzled a few cologne drops on a comb and ran it through Will's wet hair, smacking his ass when she was done so that the boy jumped off the table and faced his tutor.

 

'How do you feel, Will?' he asked with a warm smile.

 

The boy shrugged.

 

'Clean?' he muttered in a little voice. He was eyeing the nurse nervously, and he bit on a nail as she went about the bathroom draining the bathtub and sweeping the dark curls with a broom. Will's old clothes lay in a bundle on the floor and she picked them up.

 

'What should I do with these, Dr. Lecter?'

 

'Burn them' Hannibal ordered, and the nurse nodded 'And return here when you're done, please'.

 

She left then, and Will was left alone with the tutor, shivering in the flimsy linen nightshirt but looking somehow relieved that the old woman was no longer there.

 

'Mr. Lecter' he muttered 'Why does she call you _doctor_?'

 

Hannibal snorted softly.

 

'Because I was one, many years ago. But I don't practice medicine anymore'.

 

The boy frowned lightly, and then he raised his head to say:

 

'How is Winston, sir? Is he OK?'

 

'He's good and clean like you, and I sent a maid to the pharmacy for some medicine'.

 

The false news made Will beam, but they also filled his eyes with tears. It had been horrible to wait here all alone, and then discover that the person who turned the key of the bathroom was the old, scary woman. She had said nothing as she bathed and soaped him, and Will had been utterly terrified the whole time. But knowing his little puppy was fine made it all worth the while.

 

'Thank you, Mr. Lecter' he sobbed, and Hannibal watched as a wave of relief washed over the boy. His knees trembled slightly, and it was his perfect cue to continue.

 

'I'm going to examine you now, Will' he said patting the table 'Hop on and take the night shirt off'.

 

'Yes, sir.'

 

There was an air of carefree innocence in the way that Will stripped that gave Hannibal pause. It wasn't blind trust in him, not yet, and the boy was too old to ignore what being naked meant, especially in front of another person. Hannibal thought that maybe some degree of nakedness had been usual in the boys bedrooms of the orphanage, and that Will was used to it. He didn't behave in the same coy and shy manner as Abigail, although the education of girls was far more strict and severe when it came to intimate matters.

 

Will sat on the table and looked at Hannibal with an easy smile, unconcerned about his nakedness and waiting expectantly for instructions. And his attitude, far from satisfying Hannibal, only served to fuel a dark wave of jealousy. What dirty boys had seen his Will naked, and what games had they been playing under the blankets of their orphanage beds?

 

'Let's see' he said hiding his anger with a little smile and starting to prod the boy's ribs 'Ever broke a bone, Will?'

 

'No, sir'.

 

Hannibal's fingers moved quickly up and down Will's skin, checking for tender spots in his abdomen and caressing old scars with curiosity.

 

'Did you get measles when you were little?'

 

'I don't know, sir'.

 

Hannibal inspected the skin for marks of measles, smallpox or chicken pox, but there were none. He massaged the boy's neck for swelling or stiffness, but everything seemed in order.

 

'Open your mouth' he said to check for rotten teeth or swollen tonsils. Mrs. Gaskin had made the boy clean his mouth with baking soda and lemon, and despite a slightly loose tooth, everything was also fine there.

 

'Tell me about your parents, Will' Hannibal said inspecting his skinny legs to make sure he hadn't suffered rickets as a baby 'Did you know them?'

 

'No' he replied 'Mr. Paterson told me they had died of dip- pid--fit- teria' he said at last, tripping on the difficult word.

 

 _'Diphteria'_ Hannibal corrected 'We'll write that word tomorrow in our lesson. But now, I must ask you an important question, Will'.

 

He made the boy stand on the table, so that his little penis was at eye level. Hannibal grabbed it between thumb and forefinger and rolled the foreskin back to reveal the pink tip.

 

'Did you engage in self-abuse while you were at the orphanage?'

 

Will recoiled a little, and grabbed the tutor's shoulder to keep his balance.

 

'That is a horrible sin, Mr. Lecter. I could go to hell'.

 

Hannibal squeezed the little penis, rubbing the head with his thumb in slow, teasing circles.

 

'And the other boys? I assume two or three of you would share the same bed'.

 

Will shrugged and shook his head.

 

'I had no friends at the orphanage, sir'.

 

Hannibal let go of him. The boy had answered _none_ of his questions, either he was very clever or just too candid. And Hannibal couldn't tell which.

 

'I need to check one more thing' he said helping the kid to sit on the table again 'Those... _noodles_ you saw in Winston... they're parasites, Will. I must make sure you have none of them'.

 

The boy knitted his brow, but he let himself be guided to the required position on the table. Hannibal made him kneel and bend over, instructing him to place his chin on his forearms and relax. Then he pulled the boy's knees wide apart, so that his bottom was up and his ass cheeks thoroughly exposed and accessible.

 

'Very good, Will' he said moving to a cabinet and picking a jar of petroleum jelly. Will followed him with his eyes and shuddered.

 

'Mr. Lecter, I'm s-scared'.

 

'There's no need' he said returning to the table and caressing the boy's soft cheeks 'This is not going to hurt'.

 

And indeed, Hannibal was determined to make good on his word. He was well aware there was no way in which Will could be infected, of course, but the boy couldn't know. He gasped and flinched a little when he felt his cheeks thumbed open, and Hannibal took a moment to admire his lovely, rosy hole. It was so little and beautiful that he felt an irresistible urge to kiss it, but Hannibal held his breath and instead dipped his pinkie in the petroleum jelly. He rubbed a bit over the puckered entrance, massaging Will's little hole and feeling him clench tightly.

 

'Ssshhh' he soothed 'You need to relax, Will. Trust me'.

 

The boy swallowed hard, and he was about to say something when Hannibal pushed the tip of his finger into his hole. That made him suck in a breath, but Hannibal continued, probing and testing the muscle resistance to make sure Will was a virgin, innocent and unschooled in this kind of pleasure. Hannibal would see to it that he learned all about it, though. After all, he was the best tutor in London.

 

'You are doing very well, Will' he crooned, dipping his finger once more into the jar and continuing the massage. Little by little Will relaxed, and Hannibal spent a long while teasing his tight anus, tickling the external sphincter and rubbing it in circles. And when at last he started to push his pinkie into Will's hole a bit more vigorously, he realized with satisfaction that his little penis was becoming stiff. Hannibal smiled smugly and continued the relentless finger fucking, wishing he could add more fingers but knowing it was better to wait for that.

 

'Mis-Mister Lecter' the boy wheezed, and to his great shock, Will snaked a hand down his stomach and started to stroke his penis, awkwardly at first, then in a more fluid movement.

 

Hannibal paused briefly, amazed at the naivety and childish amorality of the boy. He must have heard over a thousand times in church how dreadful the sin of self-abuse was; he had actually admitted that much himself. Yet here he was, stroking his hard little dick as his tutor penetrated his hole.

 

A wolfish grin tugged at Hannibal's lips, and he rewarded his naughty pupil inserting his finger deeply inside him, twirling and wiggling it to increase the friction. Will choked a pant then, and he tried to remain very still as the wicked finger pushed in and out of him at an excruciating slow rhythm.

 

'Excellent' Hannibal said after some intense minutes. He pulled his finger out with a satisfying _pop_ and looked at Will's wonderfully stretched hole, now red and glistening with the melted vaseline.

 

'It seems you're healthy inside, Will' he announced cleaning his finger on a towel and opening the door of the bathroom for the old nurse to come inside 'But Mrs. Gaskin will give you an enema to make sure'.

 

The boy didn't react, he probably didn't know what that was or maybe he was too lost in his sleepy pleasure to realize Hannibal was leaving him alone with the nurse. It was the most difficult decision Hannibal had to take for his plan to work, but also the most important one. He clicked the door shut behind him and sat on a chair of the corridor.   

 

Hannibal let out a long sigh. He couldn't bear to think that the lovely little hole of his Will was going to be so thoroughly invaded, and lest of all by his very own instructions. He had ordered Mrs. Gaskin to administer a cleansing enema to the boy, nothing unusual since that was the common weekly routine for wealthy boys and girls all over London. Keeping the insides healthy was crucial to avoid auto-intoxication, something especially important in Will's case, as the boy came from one of the most unsanitary places in the city.

 

But then Hannibal had also told her to use a soap stick to speed up the cleansing process, knowing full well how much that would sting an irritate the tender anus of his ward. And sure enough, after only a few minutes Hannibal started to hear the boy whimpering in the bathroom, crying and groaning as the white soap dissolved in his tight little hole and the first cramps started.

 

Hannibal took a cigarette from his silver case and lit it. He knew he wasn't being overtly cruel, and neither was Mrs. Gaskin. All his pupils without exception were disciplined with punishment enemas by their nannies, dreadful preparations of turpentine, glycerin and ox bile that were incredibly painful to retain. By all standards, Will was having it easy.

 

Yet still, Hannibal couldn't help to grit his teeth every time he heard the boy sob. He knew he had to see this through to fully bond with Will, and even more so now that he had discovered his budding and unabashed sexuality. But his determination wavered when he heard the boy call his name:

 

'Mr Lecter! Help!'

 

A painful smack silenced the disobedient child, and for a moment Hannibal was sorely tempted to go into the bathroom and hold him in his arms, promising everything was over and lulling him to sleep.

 

 _Soon_ , he promised himself with a puff at his cigarette. When he heard the toilet cistern he knew they were half way through the process, and Hannibal started to imagine the black rubber nozzle invading the sweet little hole of his boy, stretching him unceremoniously and filling him with warm water.

 

Indeed, the sobbing started again, but this time Will didn't cry out, and after some time and more cistern noises, the door of the bathroom finally opened.

 

'We're done, Dr. Lecter', the old nurse announced, and Hannibal crushed the cigarette butt on an ashtray, entering the bathroom to find a weak and exhausted Will lying on his side on the table.

 

'Will?' Hannibal whispered stroking a finger down his tear stained cheek, and the boy opened his eyes to blink at him.

 

'Mr. Lecter!' he cried when he realized who it was, and he sat up the best he could to hug him in a tight, fierce embrace.

 

 _Oh, Will_   Hannibal thought. The boy was a trembling mess of tears and whimpers, and he buried his head on the tutor's chest and cried his heart out, because it had been horrible, and painful, but now everything was over and he was safe and secure.

 

 _No more pain_ , Hannibal promised in silence as he petted his hair with infinite care, _Never again_.

 

The old nurse left, and Hannibal waited until the sobbing subsided to scoop the boy in his arms and take him to Abigail's room, which had already been prepared for him. He put Will to bed even though it was only midday, tucking him under the warm blankets and sitting by his side.

 

'How do you feel?' he asked caressing his heated forehead.

 

'Hurts' the boy hiccupped, leaning into his hand to seek his comfort and care.

 

Hannibal knew the sting would go away in a little time, and in a few hours it would be quite forgotten.

 

'Would you like me to touch you as I was doing before, Will? To soothe the pain away?'

 

'Yes' the boy said blinking away a tear 'Yes, please, Mr. Lecter. Please'.

 

It was Hannibal's great moment of triumph, but he schooled his face so that he only showed concern.

 

'On your hands and knees then' he said pulling the blankets away, and the boy readily assumed the position.

 

It almost killed Hannibal to see his red, swollen hole, puffy and throbbing after so much abuse. He touched it carefully, but Will gasped in pain.

 

'It hurts' he whimpered, so this time Hannibal did take his lips to the heated little hole. The boy gasped, but soon he realized the lips and tongue of his tutor didn't hurt as much as his finger. The kisses felt soft and incredibly wet, and little by little he melted into the soothing caress, gasping silently and closing his eyes in pleasure.

 

'You feel better, Will?' Hannibal asked laying more feather soft-kisses on his puckered hole.

 

The boy didn't reply, so Hannibal pressed a hand to his back to make him lean forward.

 

'Fold your arms, head on the pillow' he gently instructed, and the kid hastened to obey. In that way his bottom was even more exposed, and Hannibal parted his knees until his limp penis and balls were accessible to his mouth.

 

This wasn't the most comfortable position for him, but as he engulfed his little balls and dick, Hannibal told himself there would be many days to do this better. The boy gave out a little cry as the tutor started to suck, opening his eyes wide as his wicked tongue teased him.

 

As much as he liked this, Hannibal returned his attention to the boy's swollen hole, wondering how he would react at the lack of contact. Will whined when the warm mouth and tongue disappeared, but he was still too young to ask for what he wanted. He probably didn't even know the right words for it, but after a moment of frustration his little hand moved to his dick to continue the job Hannibal had purposefully left unfinished.

 

'Ah-aaah' he whimpered when he felt the strong, fleshy tongue lapping between his cheeks. Hannibal smiled against his puckered entrance and dipped his tongue into the painfully stretched hole, soothing and teasing him at the same time. The pain was fading quickly, because Will moved his hand faster, and faster, and after only a minute he went rigid and started to shudder.

 

Hannibal would have loved to taste the two or three drops of clear fluid that oozed down his dick, but he knew it was still too soon for that. He wiped the wet stain on the sheet, though, and guided a sweaty, exhausted Will to lie on his side again.

 

'Do you feel better now?' he whispered, but the boy's eyelids were already heavy with sleep. He mumbled something as Hannibal caressed his cheek, and he fell asleep in an instant.

 

Hannibal tiptoed out of his room then, feeling a warm pride spreading through his chest.  It had been rather unintelligible at first, but in the end he had made out the words of his boy.

 

And he had said _I love you_.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a few tags... just so you know :P

 

Will woke up feeling as if he had been sleeping for a long time, when in fact he'd been napping for only half an hour. He was warm and cosy in his new bed, but an old friend pulled him out of his blissful sleep. Hunger.

 

Will was used to the pangs of constant hunger at the orphanage, but after the hot chocolate and everything that had happened, it felt as if all the hunger of the world was there, twisting his stomach in painful knots.

 

He left the bed and stood on the floor, unsure of what to do. The room was big and spacious, with an oak table and chair by the window and a large dresser on the far end of wall. There were two shelves with some books and a painting of a distant landscape, and also a rocking chair where an old porcelain doll sat. She had long blond curls and lifeless beads for eyes, and that made Will frown. The doll seemed to be laughing at him with a mean and evil smile, so he grabbed her arm to hide it in the wardrobe. And when Will opened the large lacquered door, he found a sailor suit waiting for him inside.

 

Will put the doll facing the darkest corner of the wardrobe and climbed on the chair to get the suit from the hanger. It was brand new and freshly pressed, and it smelled really good. There were a pair of navy blue pants, a white shirt with a sailor collar and tie and also a hat, which Will presumed he'd wear when he left the house with his tutor. But the best were the shoes, because they were _real_ shoes, made of shiny leather and with a little anchor on the buckle.

 

Will smiled as only a child could, he was so happy with the present that he almost forgot how hungry he was. He put only the suit quickly, amazed at how comfortable and warm the clothes were. Then he pulled the woollen socks up to his knees, and slipped into the new shoes with an excited giggle. Will had never had shoes in his life before, only the second hand boots that some charities gave to the orphanage. But these were so nice, and fitted him so well, that he left his room in a rush, running down the stairs and crying excitedly:

 

'Mr. Lecter! Mr. Lecter!'

 

Hannibal opened the door of his office with a frown, he certainly didn't tolerate this kind of ruckus in the house, but he barely had time to react when a whirl of white and blue jumped and clung to him in a tight embrace.

 

'Thank you so much, Mr. Lecter!' Will cried overjoyed, and he kissed his cheek once, and twice, and then many times because he was so happy he could burst.

 

Hannibal managed to keep his balance and held Will in his arms, feeling the warmth and smell of his boy. Will's kisses were rushed and inexperienced, but his enthusiasm and innocence made up for all his lack of expertise. Hannibal smiled fondly at him and pressed a kiss to his lips, chaste and quick but very satisfying.

 

'Now, now' Hannibal said putting him down on the floor 'Let me have a look at you'.

 

He took a step back to admire his boy, who looked so tender and young in his new sailor uniform. Hannibal had chosen it himself, giving instructions to the tailor to make it loose enough as he anticipated Will would grow and put on some much needed weight here. And indeed, the uniform fitted the boy a little too loosely around the shoulders and waist, but Hannibal would make sure he'd fill it quickly.

 

'And the shoes!' the boy exclaimed giving excited little jumps. Hannibal snorted softly. He had anticipated winning the trust of the kid would be exceptionally easy, what with the harsh life of misery and deprivation that he had endured. But there was something else in Will, an air of sincere honesty and goodness that made him much more desirable. Corruptible, even. Hannibal felt a dark wave of lust uncoiling in his stomach, but he hid it with a warm smile. 

 

'I'm pleased you like it' he said closing the door of his office and leading Will to the kitchen 'I'll have the tailor come in a few weeks to measure you properly, but in the meantime... It's time for lunch'.

 

Will looked amazed when he entered the kitchen. The place was so clean and tidy, and it smelled of food, _real_ , delicious food. Will's stomach gurgled noisily, and Hannibal gestured to the big table. 

 

'Take a sit' he instructed, and watched as his boy obeyed dutifully, sitting on a high chair and dangling his feet under the kitchen table.

 

Hannibal had prepared Will's lunch himself, carefully selecting the more nutritious ingredients for a quick remission of his severe malnourishment. Today he had cooked lamb stew with baby potatoes and some greens, and he had thickened the broth with five egg yolks and breadcrumbs soaked in milk. He put a big dish of the stew on a tray, and placed two thick slices of bread with butter next to it. Then he filled a large glass of creamy milk and cut a piece of spongy cake with raisins, adding a scoop of cream on top.

 

Will's eyes went wide when the tutor set the tray in front of him, and he looked at him slack-jawed.

 

'Is this all... all for _me_?'

 

'Of course' Hannibal said with a little smile 'But if it's too much you may--'

 

He never finished his sentence, as the boy grabbed the spoon and started to eat with ravenous hunger. Hannibal grinned to himself and moved to the counter to make some tea. Will slurped the broth noisily and chewed everything with his mouth open, but for once bad manners at the table didn't bother Hannibal. It was obvious the kid's modals needed to improve substantially, but there would be time for that. For the moment Hannibal was satisfied to see his cherubic face as he gave out little delighted _'Ohs'_ and _'Ahs'_ whenever he tried something new.

 

'Mr. Lecter' Will suddenly said, spoon in mid air and brow knitted 'Can I... Can I save a little meat for Winston?'

 

'There's no need' Hannibal said 'He ate a while ago, and I'm happy to say that he's doing much better. You may play with him when you finish'.

 

Will smiled with the same air of unclouded innocence that had captivated Hannibal, and he poured the tea carefully. The truth was that he had been tempted to drown the puppy while Will was sleeping, but in the end he had decided against it. After all the intimacy he had already shared with his pupil, Hannibal knew that the dog would not be a rival for the boy's affection. Actually, Winston could be a very powerful ally for Hannibal, who was now the saviour of the little puppy and a hero in Will's eyes. In this as in everything else, one always ended up catching more flies with honey.

 

'Can I- ' Will said devouring the sponge cake in two big bites and drinking all the milk in a gulp 'Can I play with Winston now, sir?'

 

'Yes' Hannibal said as he cleaned the boy's milk moustache with a napkin 'You may play in the garden, but you must be ready for our lesson when I return from the city'.

 

'Yes, Mr. Lecter'.

 

Hannibal opened the door to the garden, and watched as the boy gave a little cry of joy when he saw his beloved puppy clean and healthy. They started to play and jump then, running around the garden happy and carefree.

 

Hannibal took a sip of his tea and sighed. He was tutoring Mr. Crawford during the early hours of the afternoon, a stubborn boy who had been struggling with his Latin for the past months. It would be a long, tedious time with him, but the idea of coming back to his boy made Hannibal smile. He couldn't really wait for their first lesson to begin.

  

\---

 

'Good afternoon, Mr. Lecter'.

 

'Good afternoon, Mr. Crawford' Hannibal said entering the library of the old mansion. The Crawfords were one of the most important families in London, and Hannibal had been tutoring their son for two years now. The boy wasn't particularly good at Latin or Arithmetics, but there were several advantages in being known in this aristocratic circle. After all, Hannibal had a reputation to uphold.

 

'I trust your translation today is much improved' Hannibal warned as he left his leather briefcase on the table of the library.

 

The boy looked down and started to tremble, and Hannibal knew he was in for another disastrous piece of homework. He held out his hand for the boy's exercises and started to read aloud:

 

'O Faunus the nymphs are in love with your wings, and the sun on the borders is good to my crops, with many infants happy and little; when one of my sons has dinner with you and the victim of the year--' Hannibal stopped and looked at the boy with a hard, stern face.

 

'Mr. Crawford' he said in an icy tone 'Do you think the poet Horace wrote all this gibberish when he composed his _Ode to Faunus_?'

 

'N-no, sir' the boy stuttered.

 

A giggle echoed somewhere in the library, and the boy looked around with a frown. It couldn't be, they were alone.

 

' _O Faunus_ ' Hannibal recited calling the boy's attention ' _Thou lover of the flying nymphs, benignly traverse my borders and sunny fields, and depart propitious to my little nursery; if a tender kid falls victim to you at the completion of the year..._ ' the tutor stopped for emphasis 'Does any of this resemble your translation, Mr. Crawford?'

 

'No, sir'.

 

'Then you know what to do'.

 

The boy let out a tiny whimper. He had learnt the hard way that crying and begging would only make things worse for himself, so now he barely needed any instructions to grab the back of his chair and pull his pants down.

 

There was another giggle from the far end of the library, and a hushed rustle.

 

'Mr. Lecter, s-sir' the boy stammered 'I think-- I think there is someone-- h-here.'

 

'Of course, Mr. Crawford' Hannibal said positioning the boy correctly 'I'm here with you. But if you'd like an audience, I'll gladly call your parents'.

 

'No, please' the boy said turning red with shame.

 

A little smile tugged at the corner of Hannibal's lips. He had been aware for some time now that Jack’s sister had found a hidden place in the library where she watched his brother’s punishment. And it seemed she had brought a friend today, as Hannibal could see four little feet in Mary Jane shoes behind the old cabinet. Hannibal had never rebuked the girl for her behaviour, and always made sure she had a good view. He liked her attitude, it reminded him of Abigail.

 

'You will count each stroke, Mr. Crawford' he instructed picking the cane that was always ready for him by the fireplace.

 

'Y-yes-sir', came the anxious gasp.

 

Hannibal favoured the cane above all other spanking instruments because it was quick and efficient, it required very little effort on his part and it drove the message home unlike anything else. In all his years as a tutor Hannibal had improved his technique to perfection, to the point that three strokes by his hand equaled any good and proper over-the-knee spanking. 

 

'Good' he said swishing the cane in the air and taking a step back. The boy steeled himself for the ordeal ahead, and Hannibal imagined the two little girls squeezing their hands behind the cabinet and holding their breaths. He flicked his wrist then, delivering the first stroke easily and nodding at the satisfying thwack. 

 

'One' the boy groaned, gritting his teeth and struggling very hard not to break position.

 

Hannibal took his time between each stroke, so that the sting and pain fully sank in.

 

'Two-o-oo' the kid croaked out when the cane hit his buttocks again, a precise inch under the first one. Hannibal sauntered to the chimney slowly, turning his back to the old cabinet in case the girls wanted a full view.

 

 _Freddie, don't! He'll catch us!_ Hannibal distinctly heard, and he couldn't help a grin. Mr. Crawford was too lost in his whining and shame to hear the whisper, but the tutor had an excellent ear.

 

 _Sshhhh, Alana I want to_ see!

 

Hannibal counted to ten mentally, enough time for the girls to see the severely punished bottom of the boy, and then walked up to him again. A hissing swish and the last stroke was delivered, extra hard as was his custom, what made the pupil cry out and start to sob uncontrollably.

 

'Mr. Crawford?' Hannibal asked circling the boy slowly. If he failed to keep count he'd receive extra strokes, and he was well aware of that.

 

'Th-three' he managed after a hard swallow, and Hannibal left the cane by the fireplace.

 

'Good. We may begin our lesson now'.

 

 ---

  

An hour later Hannibal was going down the stairs of the old house when the two little girls appeared at the entrance. They were wearing white smock pinafores over their dresses, and they pushed the maid aside for the honour of getting the tutor's things.

 

'Your hat, Mr. Lecter' Alana said, and her friend smiled wickedly.

 

'And your walking cane, sir'.

 

'Hello, young ladies' Hannibal said politely 'What are you doing here?'

 

'We were just playing' Alana said.

 

'And we came to say goodbye to you, sir'.

 

'That's very nice of you' he said putting on his coat.

 

'Will you be teaching me next year, Mr. Lecter?' the redheaded girl asked eagerly 'I'm so much better than Jack. Look: _sum, es, est, sumus, estis, sunt_ ' she recited.

 

'Very good' Hannibal praised 'But how do you know Jack is doing bad at Latin?'

 

The girl blushed, afraid that she may have been discovered, but her friend intervened quickly.

 

'She knows because I told her' she replied 'Jack always gets the cane during his lessons. Everybody in the house knows that'.

 

'I see' Hannibal said considering the little girl thoughtfully 'Well, in that case, I need to ask a favour'.

 

The girls looked at each other with barely concealed excitement.

 

'Anything, sir'.

 

'Of course, Mr. Lecter. What do we need to do?'

 

Hannibal crouched down and looked at them with a concerned expression.

 

'Jack has to do a very difficult translation for next week. I want you ladies to promise me you'll see to it that he is not distracted during the weekend. He really needs to work on his homework or I'll have no choice but to punish him very hard next Monday. Do I have your word?'

 

Alana smiled wickedly, and so did her friend.

 

'You have our word, Mr. Lecter'.

 

'We wouldn't want Jack caned for anything in the world' the cheeky redheaded had the audacity to say, and Hannibal raised a curious eyebrow at her.

 

'What is your name, young lady?'

 

'Fredricka Lounds. But everybody calls me Freddie'.

 

'Pleased to meet you, Miss Freddie. Miss Alana' he said bowing his head politely and standing up.

 

Hannibal heard them whisper excitedly behind him, and as he headed for the main door, he had the certainty that the boy’s homework will have mysteriously disappeared when he came for his next lesson on Monday.

 

\---

 

Hannibal had ordered Mrs. Gaskin to give Will a succulent afternoon snack and get him ready for when he returned at four for their first lesson together. He had been anticipating this moment for a long while, when he could finally sit with his boy to begin molding his young, bright mind. Will had such great potential, and it would be Hannibal's pleasure and privilege to nurture his talent and see it flourish under his guidance. There had been a time when he used to think that Abigail was the pinnacle of his career, but now he knew Will would be his true legacy.

 

'Good afternoon, Will' he greeted as he entered his office.

 

'Good afternoon, Mr. Lecter' he dutifully replied.

 

The boy was sitting on Abigail's old desk, which had been moved to the spot it once pccupied at the tutor's office. His hands had been soaped and his hair freshly combed, and there was not a single stain or wrinkle in his sailor uniform. Will's shoes were a little muddied from playing with the puppy in the garden, but other than that, the boy was the image of perfection. There was a nib pen and ink well by his side, several sheets of paper for the Arithmetic exercises and a ruled notebook for his translations. Hannibal savoured this precious moment, when his lovely boy was still a blank slate eager to absorb all of his teachings and knowledge.

 

'We are going to start with Latin today, Will' he announced 'Our first lesson will be reverse translation, and we'll focus on Gloucester's first monologue from _Richard III_.'

 

Hannibal moved to one of the bookshelves and picked an old, leather bound book. During her first week here, Abigail had translated _Richard III_ into perfect Latin, and Hannibal expected no less from his talented pupil. And when they finished with the history play they would move to Milton, Ovid and hopefully some passages from Vergil's _Aeneid_.

 

'Here you have' he said opening the book and leaving it on the boy's desk 'Begin reading, please'.

 

Will looked at the lines of the book and wringed his hands nervously. The words were a tangled mess of dead, menacing letters, all black and almost identical to one another. Will had never translated anything at the school of the orphanage, Latin only consisted in reciting endless lists of words and declensions, which he liked and memorized following their rhythm and cadence. But reading was a veritable nightmare, and it never ended well for Will. There was no dunce's hat in the tutor's office, but Will eyed the solid wooden ruler over his desk in fear.  

 

'Will?' Hannibal asked raising an eyebrow, and the boy cleared his throat.

 

 _'Nou'_ he started, and stopped to lick his lips ' _Nou- izh-- ish the_. _de. dhé vynt-err of-ff uur--_ '

 

Will frowned at the next word. It was an intricate monster of black ink, like a thorny bough in a forest. He looked up to his tutor for help, and Hannibal stared at him blankly.

 

'Discontent' he said, and Will nodded.

 

 _'Nou izh the vynt-err of-ff uur_ discontent _mad glo-flo-ryoshssummer by dis son of-ff Yok'._

 

Will caught his breath then, licking his lips and frowning at the meaningless line.

 

'Shall I-- Shall I try again?' he whispered, but Hannibal only leant back in his chair. His boy, so bright and beautiful, could not read.

 

 _'An ool_ _the_. _de. dhé claus-glaus dhat'_   Will read, taking the tutor's silence as an indication to continue _'lorrd vpon uur h-j-aus in dhé dip bozuum of-ff dhé oshun bvry-burydd'._

 

Hannibal lifted his hand in a gesture for him to stop, and a cold, tense silence fell over the office, dreadful and suffocating. Will could hear the clock ticking by the fireplace, and he curled his toes in his brand new shoes.

 

'I'm sorry, Mr. Lecter' he whispered, and the hard, stern face of his tutor made him shiver. He knew he couldn't read well, but it was not his fault. The other boys at the orphanage mocked and taunted him, calling him awful names that hurt more than anything. But Will was not crazy, or retarded, it's just that the letters of the alphabet all looked the same to him.

 

Hannibal considered him thoughtfully, and then he asked:

 

'How many shillings are there in a guinea, Will?'

 

'Twelve, sir' he replied as quickly as possible, eager to show his tutor that he was worthy.

 

'How much is six times seven?'

 

'Forty-two'.

 

'And forty two times three?'

 

'A hundred and twenty-six.'

 

'Divided by nine?'

 

'Fourteen' Will said without hesitation, even as the colours of the numbers danced in his mind in lucid flashes. He liked numbers so much, if only--

 

'Can you please recite the full declension of _res, rei?_ '

 

 _'Res, res, rem, rei, rei, re_ ' he hastily replied 'And the plural, _res, res, res, rerum, rebus, rebus_ '.

 

'Very good. Do you know what it means?'

 

Will lowered his eyes to the desk and didn't reply.

 

'What is _res_ in English, Will?'

 

But the boy said nothing, only started to bit his bottom lip anxiously. When it was obvious he would have to give an answer, _any_   answer, he looked up at his tutor and said:

 

'I don't know, Mr. Lecter.'

 

' _Thing'_ Hannibal sighed in dismay 'It means _thing'_.

 

Will frowned at the desk and felt all the disappointment of the world heavy on his shoulders. 

 

'Then why are there so many?' he asked in frustration.

 

'So many what?'

 

'Things!' Will cried as if it were obvious ' _Res, res, rem, rei, rei, re_ , _res, res, res, rerum, rebus, rebus_. Too many things. Why?'

 

Hannibal closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. It would be impossible to explain the Latin cases to a boy who didn't know how to read and lacked the most basic knowledge in grammar. It was evident to him now that Will had learnt all the Latin declensions by heart during his days at the orphanage school, repeating everything he heard and remembering it all without even understanding what he was saying. It didn't bear thinking. His bright, talented boy!

 

'Will' Hannibal asked clenching his jaw tight 'Do you at least know the alphabet?'

 

'Of course I do!' he replied in an indignant tone 'I'm not silly! But the letters are all dead!'

 

'What do you mean' Hannibal said making a visible effort to rein in his temper 'What do you mean _dead_?'

 

'I mean they're dead! They have no colours, like the numbers! They just sit there and don't... don't move!'

 

'Young man' Hannibal warned leaving his desk and taking a menacing step towards him 'If you are lying or joking know that I'll cane you so hard you'll forget your own name'.

 

Will left his desk too, slowly but securely standing on his feet to face his tutor.

 

'I'm not a liar, Mr. Lecter. And what I say is no joke. Numbers are alive, letters are not. That's why I can't read them'.

 

Hannibal felt his nostril's flaring in anger. No child had ever tried his patience like this, never. Not even Abigail.

 

'You are dismissed, Mr. Graham' he hissed 'Go to your room'.

 

The boy stomped angrily on the floor and turned around. And it took all of Hannibal's self control not to haul him to his lap right there and then for a good old-fashioned spanking, the cane be damned. If he didn't do it, it was because of the silent promise he had made to Will after his morning enema, _no more pain, not now, not ever_. Hannibal wouldn't break his word, but Lord, he was sorely tempted.

 

The door of his office slammed shut then, and Hannibal let out a long, shaky breath. All his dreams were in tatters now, mocked and insulted by the insolent boy. In all his years as a tutor he had never heard such an outrageous tale, numbers alive and letters dead. Only a hashish addict he had once treated insisted that music had colour, and that numbers had smells. Where could have the boy picked such a story?

 

Hannibal looked at his pocket watch and sighed. It was only twenty past four, so there was still quite some time until dinner. He spent the next hour writing some letters and trying to forget the incident, although Will's stubborn words came back to him over and over again. Somewhere around half past five Hannibal decided to check on the boy, hoping he had invested the time wisely, examining his conscience and repenting his beahviour in the office.

 

'Will?' he said as he opened the door of the boy's bedroom. But Will was not there, and that infuriated the tutor even more. He had told Will to come here, yet the boy had chosen to ignore him. Hannibal stormed down the stairs to the kitchen, but he only found Mrs. Gaskin there.

 

'Have you seen the boy?' he asked with a frown, but the old housekeeper shook his head.

 

'No, sir. I thought the young master was in your office for the lesson'.

 

'He must be hiding somewhere' he grumbled remembering the game of the wicked girls back at the Crawford mansion 'Help me find him'.

 

Mrs. Gaskin nodded and cleaned her hands in a kitchen towel. They looked everywhere, from the garden to the coal cellar back to Hannibal's office and the boy's room. The bathroom was empty, and so was the dining room and the tutor's bedroom.

 

'I can't find him, Dr. Lecter' the housekeeper said as she met him at the entrance of the house 'And the dog is gone'.

 

Hannibal pursed his lips and frowned at the bit of dry mud by the door. He opened it, and when he saw more on the steps leading to the street, a sudden realization hit him.

 

Will had run away.

 


	5. Chapter 5

A lost child in the streets of London was as good as dead.

 

Hannibal spent a long time trying to find Will, asking policemen and giving shillings to beggars and newspaper boys in the hope that one of them might have seen him. He checked the local market and many shady lanes of the city, two churches, his old orphanage and St. Bartholomew hospital, but the odds of finding his boy in such a busy city were close to none. Will could be _anywhere_. And he had positively vanished.

 

When it got dark and the lamp posts bathed the streets in their eerie yellow light, Hannibal knew there was nothing else he could do. He refused to admit he had lost the boy, but deep down he knew Will was probably lying in a pool of blood somewhere, stabbed to death for his bright new shoes.

 

Hannibal returned home alone. He had a light dinner, and entered his office as was his custom before retiring for the night. Will's desk was empty, his nib pen unused and his brand new notebook not even open yet. Hannibal put everything in a drawer of his desk and sat down with a sigh. Now that his boy was gone, he could finally face the feelings that had been haunting him since their first meeting. It hadn't been just care and affection for his pupil, and neither simple lust. It had been something else, something brighter and at the same time, darker. Hannibal wanted to have the boy for himself, to lead and mould his future to perfection. In the most literal of senses, he wanted to _own_ the child.

 

Hannibal considered the small chair of the desk and smiled sadly to himself. All his carefully designed plans had backfired on him, unsurprisingly so. Will was an innocent spirit, strong, pure and resilient, impossible to cage with Latin lessons and strict rules. Hannibal realized now that his efforts to gild the bars with sailor uniforms and delicious food had been as vain as trying to hold the wind in a net. Only a fool did such a thing. And now the wind had rightfully vanished.

 

 ---

 

It didn't make much sense now, but Hannibal was determined to find out the cause of Will's reading problem. And so, a little after 9 p.m. he climbed up the stairs of the mezzanine in his office looking for the old medical books that he had studied as a young student in Paris.

 

Most were of little use, though, as Will was no lunatic or hebephrenic. He was not insane either, and didn't suffer from epilepsy or any manic neurosis. Hannibal's only clue was the hashish addict he had once treated, who strangely claimed that music had colour. He had discarded the symptom as an hallucination originated in the man's drug habit, but now he found himself wondering if there had been more to that tale than met his eye.

 

Hannibal moved to a the Drugs Section of his library to look for the reports of Jacques-Joseph Moreau, a French psychiatrist who had experienced with hashish as a way to treat mental illness. He started to read his journals looking for some clue, but after a while he frowned in frustration. The entries were of no help to him, focused as they were on technical descriptions of drug dosage and vulnerability to suggestion. Hannibal was about to put the journals back when a note he had written on the margin of one of the pages called his attention.

 

 _See_ _Rimbaud, Poetry_.

 

He didn't remember exactly when he had written that, but of course Rimbaud was one of the many poets who had experienced with hashish and opium to compose their poems. Hannibal had always been partial to Coleridge's _Kubla Khan_ , but he made a mental note to pick the French poet's book before going to bed.

 

Hour after hour the tutor looked for answers in the medical texts, but once and again he found himself at a dead end. He had the feeling there was something very simple about Will's problem, yet somehow not important enough to treat as a mental illness. When the writings of Connolly and Maudsley proved to be of no avail, Hannibal decided to call it a night. He would still look for answers in the morning, but he wasn't very optimistic. His lovely boy had been and would remain a mystery.

 

Hannibal let out a long sigh and moved to the poetry section to get Rimbaud's book. He flicked through its yellowed pages slowly, smiling with nostalgia as the familiar French reminded him of his years at the boarding school in Paris. Maybe this might be a good time to take a short trip to France. At least for a while. The families of his pupils would understand.

 

Hannibal was about to go down the ladder when his fingers turned a page and one of the famous poems froze him to the spot.

 

_A black, E white, I red, U green, O blue: vowels,_

_I shall tell, one day, of your mysterious origins..._

 

Hannibal knitted his brow, reading through the poem and finally understanding. Will was not mentally perturbed, he was a synesthete, as Rimbaud himself had been. The boy's senses were cross-wired, that's why he felt numbers had colours- they were alive in his mind, dancing and shining. But for some reason Will couldn't see the colours in the alphabet, what made it almost impossible for him to read words. They were _dead_ , as he had put it.

 

Hannibal clenched his jaw tight. The boy's teacher at the orphanage couldn't possibly know what synesthesia meant, and he had become aware of Will's gift until too late. It would have been so easy to teach his bright boy if only he had known. Hannibal would have started with the vowels, re-training Will's mind and assigning colours to them. If A was blue and E green, then _water_ would have made sense for the boy, and then _bathe_ , and then _ocean_. He could have built a map of coloured letters with him, maybe even adding sounds and feelings to the alphabet. And with Will's skills and talent, Hannibal was certain that the boy would have been reading fluently in less than a month.

 

But now everything was useless.

 

Hannibal left his office with the poetry book in his hand and retired to his room. He would start planning his very much postponed trip to Paris tomorrow. He would finally visit Abigail there, and maybe, just maybe, the pain of Will's absence would stop gnawing at his entrails.

 

\---

 

'Mr. Lecter, I'm hungry.'

 

Hannibal turned around in his four-poster bed. He had been drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep for the past few hours, so vivid and lucid that he could actually feel the little hand of his boy poking his arm.

 

'Mr. Lecter'.

 

Hannibal opened his eyes and saw a shadow by his side. It was a dream, of course, but the word left his lips before he could stop it:

 

'Will?'

 

The shadow came closer.

 

'Sir... I'm hungry'.

 

For a brief moment Hannibal didn't know what to do. He could continue with the fantasy and talk with the ghost, but logic and reason dictated that he lit the oil lamp on the bedside table to pull himself from sleep and put an end to the delusion.

 

Hannibal sat up in the bed with a sigh, and when he felt for the matches he bumped into the ghost's arm, warm and skinny and-- _real_.  Hannibal gave out a surprised gasp and lit a match quickly. And when the light of the oil lamp bathed the room Will was there- right there, standing by his bed. Alive. And real.

 

'Will!' he exclaimed in shock.

 

'I'm sorry, sir' Will muttered ducking his head 'Will you cane me for waking you up?'

 

Hannibal left the bed and knelt on the floor to embrace his boy in a fierce hug. He smelled his hair and felt his body to make sure, but it really was him, his lovely, bright boy, so young and beautiful in his sailor uniform.

 

'Where have you been?' he asked checking he was uninjured.

 

Will gave a one shoulder shrug and didn't reply.

 

'Will?' Hannibal asked, but the boy looked way and frowned.

 

'You told me to go to my room' he grumbled.

 

Hannibal stared blankly at him.

 

'You were in your room? All this time?'

 

When the boy kept his stubborn silence, Hannibal's relief turned to anger and fear in a split second.

 

'Will' he said in a stern voice 'I looked for you in your bedroom, and so did Mrs. Gaskin. And you were _not_ there'.

 

The boy crossed his arms over his chest defiantly, staring at his tutor with half-closed eyes.

 

'Answer me!' Hannibal ordered grabbing him by the arms and shaking him to obtain a reply. But Will escaped from his grip and cried:

 

'I was in the wardrobe! I knew you were looking for me, I didn't come out because I- I--'

 

To Hannibal's utter shock, the boy punched him in the face. He wasn't very strong, but his small fist left a red mark on his cheek.

 

'You called me a liar! And I hated you!'

 

The boy started to sob then, scared and angry and trembling all over.

 

'I wanted to stay there forever, but I'm- I'm so hungry'.

 

Will started to cry, and Hannibal remained where he was, stunned and very still. No child had ever dared to hit him, and for a long moment he considered his options. He wanted to spank Will for his disobedience, to hug him for being alive and to kiss him for his wild spirit and childish honesty. But he did none of those.

 

'I believe you, Will' he said at last 'I truly do. You have a gift called synesthesia. I should have realized sooner'.

 

'Syn-synush--?' Will dried a tear on the sleeve of his shirt.

 

'I know you can see numbers dancing and shining with colours. Some people have the same ability, although it's very rare'.

 

The boy's bottom lip began to tremble, and he sniffled softly.

 

'I know now that you were not lying' Hannibal continued in a low, reassuring voice 'You're the most talented boy I've ever met, and if you let me, I'll teach you how to read'.

 

'You-- ' Will hiccupped 'You're not mad at me?'

 

Hannibal curled his lips in a little smile. Yes, he was rather upset. And he felt like a fool, a feeling he was not used to and which he hadn't felt in decades. But that didn't matter now, because Will, _his Will_ was here. Hannibal opened his arms then, asking and offering forgiveness in a warm embrace. And the boy ran up to him, clinging to him tightly and burying his head on his chest.

 

'S-sso-sorrry' he whimpered over and over again, and Hannibal soothed him lovingly, caressing his hair with infinite care and waiting patiently for his crying to subside.

 

'Hush' he murmured, rocking the boy gently in his arms and cleaning his face when the sobbing subsided.

 

'I thought you had run away' he muttered more to himself than to Will 'I thought... I would never see you again'. 

 

Will stared at him with a little frown.

 

'But Mr. Lecter, this is my home now. Where would I go?'

 

It was such a simple statement, yet so very so true, that Hannibal couldn't help a smile. His boy could be so clever sometimes, and at the same time, so disarmingly candid.

 

'True' Hannibal said thumbing his soft lips 'This is your home now'.

 

Will smiled then, his first smile since they had met again, but right at that moment his stomach gurgled noisily and he blushed red.

 

'I'm sorry, Mr. Lecter' he muttered nervously, but Hannibal laid a kiss on his forehead and stood up.

 

'Nerver apologize for being hungry' he said putting on his navy blue robe 'Let's go to the kitchen.'

 

'Can Winston come too, sir?' Will anxiously asked 'He's very hungry as well'.

 

'Of course' Hannibal said grabbing the oil lamp on the bedside table 'I'll prepare a late night supper for us all'.

 

 ---

 

Over the next few days, Hannibal watched Will closely. The boy was his usual self, happy and carefree, but still Hannibal kept a watchful eye on him. He put him to bed at 8 p.m. and tiptoed to his room a couple of times in the night to make sure he was still there. He entered his room first thing in the morning, and when he saw him lying in his bed, he let out a tiny sigh and woke him up. Hannibal then walked Will to the bathroom and to the kitchen, where the boy ate his breakfast as voraciously as always.

 

The time he spent in the city was a problem, Hannibal had lessons in the morning and in the early afternoon, so he instructed Mrs. Gaskin to be particularly vigilant and paid a retired policeman to watch the house while he was away. He was sorely tempted to have several locks and iron bars installed on the main door and windows of the house, but after some consideration, he decided against it. The boy felt this was his home, and it couldn't become his prison now.

 

Hannibal decided there they would have no more lessons until the following Monday, what meant a break for the boy and some time for him to think his teaching strategy. And since the weather was still mild, Hannibal planned a number of interesting activities for the weekend.

 

On Saturday morning tutor and pupil went for a walk in Hyde Park, where the best of the London society saw them sauntering in their best clothes. Will beamed at all the people who stopped to greet them, happy beyond words with the brand new leather collar and leash Hannibal had bought for Winston. He played with the puppy and fed the ducks of the pond, and when lunchtime came, he enjoyed his first picnic on the grass. Hannibal had packed cold meats and cheese, foie, bread and a big bunch of grapes. Will ate it all hungrily, and he almost finished the hot chocolate Hannibal had prepared for him in the thermos. In the afternoon they spent some time shopping in the city, Hannibal had to run some errands and Will accompanied him, half-hiding behind his tutor whenever they entered a shop and looking at everything slack jawed.

 

If Saturday was great then Sunday was even better, because Hannibal took Will to the zoo. The boy was ecstatic, and his ability to _Oh!_ and _Ah!_ when he saw a new unknown animal never ceased to amuse Hannibal. He spent a long time answering the boy's questions about the animals and explaining where they came from, and on their way home, he bought Will a delicious piece of home made toffee. Will licked and ate the candy slowly, savouring the buttery taste and giving tiny bits to Winston when he thought his tutor was not looking.

 

It was well past 5 p.m. when they got home, and since Mrs. Gaskin had already left, Hannibal went to the bathroom to prepare Will's bath. He filled the copper tub with warm water and added a good dose of scented oil, and when he called for him, the boy appeared with a radiant smile.

 

'Take off your clothes, Will. It's time for your bath'.

 

'Yes, Mr. Lecter!' he beamed, and he stripped in front of his tutor quickly, leaving his wrinkled sailor suit on the floor and sinking in the bathtub with a happy smile. Will talked excitedly about the events of the morning, remembering the big elephants and the dangerous tiger of the zoo, but Hannibal barely listened, fascinated as he was by the boy's milky skin and soft curls.

 

There was something fascinating about his immature body, so skinny and vulnerable yet so full of life. Hannibal soaked the sponge in the warm water and ran it down Will's back in a gentle caress, smiling fondly as the boy recalled the moment when he saw the flamingos for the first time. The tutor worked a rich lather with a bar of soap and started to shampoo the boy's hair, softly massaging his scalp and feeling him relax after so much excitement.

 

He washed the foam away and repeated the process, this time with several drops of oil to make Will's hair soft and shiny. Hannibal was so lost in the sensation of washing his beautiful boy that he didn't realize Will had grown too quiet and silent.

 

'Mr. Lecter' he muttered after Hannibal poured more warm water over his head 'Are you mad at me?'

 

Hannibal paused and looked at the boy in puzzlement.

 

'Of course not, Will.'

 

'Have I done something wrong then?'

 

Hannibal put the sponge aside and stared at him intently.

 

'No. Why do you ask?'

 

The boy shrugged and frowned at the white bubbles filling the tub. There was something worrying him, and when he didn't volunteer anything else, Hannibal continued:

 

'You have behaved very well today, Will. We had a very good time at the zoo, and I'm very proud of you'.

 

The boy pouted and looked away. He rested his head on the porcelain tiles, and when he spoke, his voice was a sad little whisper.

 

'Then why don't you kiss me anymore?'

 

Hannibal remained silent for a brief moment, stunned at the naivety of the question. He remembered thinking the boy was too young to know how to ask for what he wanted, but once again, Will proved him wrong.

 

'Would you like me to kiss you?' Hannibal asked caressing his cheek, and the boy looked at him full of hope.

 

'Very much' he murmured, and all of a sudden he stood up in the bath tub, making the water slosh noisily around him. He grabbed Hannibal's shoulders with his wet hands for support and whispered in his ear:

 

 _'There'_.

 

Even as he spoke, his hand moved down his naked body to his little dick, eager to grasp it to make his point. Hannibal batted his hand away, though, angry and jealous of a budding sexuality that he didn't control. Not yet.

 

'Turn around' he ordered, because if his boy was to feel any pleasure it would be on his terms, and on his terms only.

 

Will obeyed easily, and Hannibal instructed him to place his hands on the tiles and bend forward.

 

'Like this?' he asked sticking his bottom out and stretching his legs wider apart.

 

Hannibal smiled at the beautiful picture his boy made, presented and open for him without fear or hesitation. It was time to begin his training, so Hannibal moved to the cabinet for supplies. He was rummaging in the drawers when he found Abigail's old brush. It was an antique he had bought years ago, with a very soft horsehair bristle on one end and a smooth alabaster handle. The long white stone was rather thick and heavy, and Hannibal smiled as an idea struck him. This would work perfectly well.

 

Hannibal returned to his boy, who hadn't moved an inch from where he was, but he was craning his neck with curiosity to see what was happening behind him. Hannibal caressed his small ass and knelt by the bathtub, thumbing his cheeks open to admire his rosy cleft and tiny puckered hole. It was such a lovely sight, the boy's skin was soft and hairless, so sweet and clean that Hannibal couldn't help a wolfish grin.

 

Will was shivering in anticipation, trying very hard to remain still as his tutor examined him, and when he ran the flat of his tongue up his cleft, Will let out an excited giggle. Hannibal smiled and licked him in long, slow swipes of his tongue, mouthing his little balls and humming to increase the pleasure. He gave the boy many wet, noisy kisses, and when he started to tickle his tightly furled hole with the tip of his tongue, Will pushed back, eager to fuck himself on his tutor's fleshy tongue.

 

Hannibal didn't allow it, of course, and instead he teased his little hole, circling it and pushing a little with his tongue without never fully breaching it.

 

'Ngrgh' the boy groaned in frustration. He tried to snake a hand to his now stiff penis, but he lost his balance and Hannibal had to hold him by the hips to prevent him from falling.

 

'Hands on the tiles, Will' he reminded him.

 

'It's not fair' the boy grumbled resuming his position, angry and frustrated that he couldn't stroke his little dick. Hannibal licked his lips as he watched the childish erection, the boy's penis was stiff and straining, and the red head was now peeking from under the taut foreskin. He would have loved to suck the tiny penis in his mouth and lick it long and hard, but again this was not a very comfortable position to do so. And he had other plans, so he spanked Will's cheeks playfully and stood up.

 

 _'Oh'_   the boy pouted, disappointed that it had all been over so soon. But Hannibal merely chuckled, grabbing the bath oil from a shelf and pouring a few drops on his palm.

 

'We're not done yet' he announced 'There's more to come'.

 

Hannibal coated his middle finger with the scented oil, making sure it was dripping wet before parting Will's cheeks and pushing the tip to his tiny hole. That made the boy gasp, and his first instinct was to clench his muscles tight. Hannibal waited, though, rubbing the little opening in soothing circles and teasing the muscle until it gave and he could push his finger in.

 

Will let out a long, throaty moan as the finger penetrated him, it hurt a little and it burned, but Hannibal didn't stop, slowly but surely applying more pressure until the boy's little hole sucked his finger in.

 

'Ssshh' Hannibal whispered as he moved his finger in circles, stretching his boy and loosening his anus for what was to come.

 

'Mr. Lecter' Will stammered grabbing the edge of the tub for a more comfortable position 'I... Ah... think I need to... _go'_.

 

'Of course not, Will' he said twirling his finger inside him 'You only need to get used to the feeling'.

 

Hannibal continued finger fucking his boy a little more, sliding his finger in and out until Will's anus was loose and red from the penetration. Then he coated the smooth handle of the brush with more oil and pressed the round tip to the stretched opening.

 

'Ah' Will gasped when he felt the cold handle, flinching from the touch in surprise.

 

'Hush' Hannibal cooed holding the brush still 'I know it's cold, but I want you to push back until you take this. Can you do that for me, Will?'

 

Will looked back with a frown, he wanted to catch a glimpse of the cold thing, but Hannibal hid it from him.

 

'It's going to feel really good' he promised, smiling as he slid his hand between the boy's thighs to massage his infantile erection.

 

Will whimpered and tensed, but as his tutor stroked his little dick between his fingers, he started to relax. The feeling was so different from when he did this himself, but at the same time so much better, and in no time he was humping the hand in earnest.

 

'Easy' Hannibal muttered as he placed the tip of the handle to his little anus again, slowly pushing while he held Will in place.

 

'Oww, Mr. Lecter' he complained with a wince, because the handle was thicker than his tutor's finger, very much so, and it was stretching his tight sphincter to the limit.

 

'I know you can take it' Hannibal soothed applying more pressure and watching as Will's tiny hole finally gave to accommodate the thick girth. Only the tip was inside, and already the boy's anus was twitching and throbbing, red and distended as his legs shook uncontrollably.

 

'It's too big' he sobbed trying to push it out, but Hannibal didn't allow it, pushing the handle a little further in as he rolled the boy's limp penis in his hand for comfort. It was a pity his beautiful erection had deflated, but then, it was to be expected.

 

'You are doing so well, Will' he encouraged, keeping the handle still and letting his boy grow used to the thick invasion 'I'm very proud of you. If you push back, the pain will fade away quicker'.

 

Will sniffled a tear and clenched his muscles experimentally. He pushed back as his tutor suggested, and as the heavy handle impaled him, he realized the pain was not as intense as before. The cold of the white stone didn't bother him anymore, actually, it provided a great relief to his sore, heated hole.

 

'Excellent' Hannibal murmured approvingly as the boy started to rock to and fro, awkwardly at first, but then with more energy, taking an inch of the handle every time and squeezing his anus tight around it.

 

It took a long while for his hole to fully accommodate the handle, but as the minutes ticked by Will became more at ease with the deep penetration. He was loose and good now, and so he increased his rhythm, fucking himself on the handle as his greedy hole sucked more and more of it. Hannibal poured more oil to increase the slick feeling, and after a while it was obvious the boy was enjoying the gliding sensation of the handle inside his ass, smooth and sleek and so very filling.

 

Hannibal never stopped fondling his little dick and balls, and although his immature erection didn't return, he enjoyed hearing the soft pants and gasps his lovely boy made, flushed and sweaty as he took all of Abigail's brush in.

 

'Look, Will' Hannibal said with a warm smile 'You've got a tail now. Just like Winston'.

 

Will craned his neck and frowned at the white bristles of the brush. It was all he could see, and as he clenched his ass the brush wiggled a little.

 

'It's true!' he exclaimed 'A tail like a puppy!'

 

He giggled and tried wagging his new tail, and as he watched him Hannibal started to unbutton his pants slowly. He was hard, very much so, and although he wouldn't penetrate his boy yet, he was determined to mark him for good.

 

'Now, Will' he said grabbing the brush and taking himself in hand 'I want you to relax and let go'.

 

Before the boy had time to reply, Hannibal started to fuck him quickly, moving the handle in and out of his obscenely stretched hole as he stroked his own cock. Will grunted at the rapid and relentless rhythm imposed by his tutor, but he grabbed the edge of the tub tighter and bit his bottom lip to behave properly.

 

Hannibal knew he wouldn't last much, and when he felt his climax approaching he gave a few final vicious thrusts with the brush and yanked it out of Will's ass. He only had a few seconds to admire the moist, gaping hole of his boy, it took all of his control to keep his orgasm at bay as he dropped the brush and pressed his cockhead to the sloppy anus instead. Hannibal came like this, right into Will, squeezing his cock in so that spurt after spurt filled the boy's hole. A little trickled down his thighs, but most of it landed in the gaping hole of the child, white and sticky as the semen oozed inside him. Hannibal caught his breath and used a finger to push it all in, feeding the naughty greedy hole all his globs of cum.

 

'Mr. Lecter' Will whispered 'That feels weird'.

 

'I know' Hannibal said picking the brush and pushing the handle once more deep into his pupil's ass. It was a pity that he had no plug to keep his seed inside the boy, but he would be getting one next day in the city. Better still, he would be getting _several_.

 

'Turn around' Hannibal instructed as he pulled the brush out with a wet pop, and when the boy faced him Hannibal patted his lips with the handle.

 

'Open' he ordered, and the boy obeyed easily, taking the tip of the handle in his mouth and sucking meekly.

 

'Very good' Hannibal praised, moving the handle in circles and watching as it filled his little mouth 'We can play this game any time you want'.

 

Will slurped around the handle and beamed at his tutor.

 

'The tail game, Mr. Lecter?'

 

'Yes, Will' Hannibal said caressing his cheek 'The tail game'.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Monday came, and Hannibal prepared a hearty breakfast with eggs, bacon and pancakes for Will. Normally he wouldn't allow a dishevelled guest at his table, but Hannibal loved to see his boy right after getting up in the morning, with his nightshirt and little robe and comfortable slippers. Will yawned and rubbed his eyes, still sleepy and drowsy, but he perked up when his tutor put the dish of delicious food in front of him.

 

It never ceased to amaze Hannibal that Will talked to his food before eating. He made up tales where the pancakes and the cutlery were protagonists, and he narrated everything he was doing -dipping the bread, adding more butter- to an invisible audience. Hannibal watched him fondly, sipping his coffee and revelling in the innocence of his boy.

 

After his second cup of hot chocolate, Will went up to his room to get ready for the day. There was nothing Hannibal would love more than to dress his boy every morning, lovingly washing his face and combing his unruly hair. But it was important that Will learned to do all those things by himself. Hannibal would still bathe him on weekends, of course, but during the rest of the week, Will was responsible for his little self.

 

When he appeared in the tutor's office, the boy looked nice and tidy. The bow of his sailor suit was tied awkwardly and his curls still seemed a little mussed, but Hannibal was satisfied. He gestured for him to sit at his small desk, and picked a long piece of chalk to begin the lesson. All his pupils always did their homework on paper where he could examine and correct their calligraphy, but Hannibal knew that approach wouldn't work with Will. At least not yet. That's why he had bought a blackboard to explain the alphabet.

 

'We are going to begin your lessons now, Will. I expect that you pay attention and behave properly'.

 

'Yes, sir' the boy duly replied.

 

'We'll do reading in the mornings and arithmetic when I return from the city in the afternoon. There will be no Latin for the moment, not until you learn how to read fluently'.

 

Will squirmed in this seat. He would like to study Latin as he had done at the orphanage school, it was so easy to remember the musical declensions and the pattern of the conjugations. But reading was very difficult, and it reminded him of the jokes of the other boys, who laughed and mocked him when his teacher asked him to read something out loud. Will always ended up wearing the dunce's hat on the corner of the classroom, and during recess the jokes and sneering comments only became more cruel. Mr. Lecter had no dunce's hat in his office, but still Will was nervous and anxious.

 

'We are going to begin with the vowels' Hannibal said writing on the blackboard:

 

_A E I O U_

_a e i o u_

 

'I assume you see them all black, right, Will?'

 

The boy nodded slowly.

 

'Good. Then we are going to begin assigning each vowel a colour. Just as you do with numbers. So, if _a_ is blue, _e_ can be green and--'

 

The boy raised his arm. It was a habit he had from the orphanage school, even though he was the only pupil here.

 

'Yes, Will'.

 

'Mr. Lecter, why are there two of them?'

 

Hannibal raised in eyebrow.

 

'What do you mean _two_?'

 

'Yes' the boy said pointing at the blackboard 'A and a'.

 

The tutor looked at the blackboard in mild surprise, and then back at Will.

 

'That's the same letter, Will. _A_ is uppercase and _a_ is lower case'.

 

Will frowned.

 

'I don't understand'.

 

Hannibal paused for a moment. The boy was genuinely confused, he was not playing a prank or pretending not to understand.

 

'Let's see. There are five vowels in the alphabet: A, e, i o and u'.

 

'But Mr. Lecter, you wrote _ten'_.

 

'Will' Hannibal said in a patient tone ' _A_ and _a_ are the same. They're written in different ways depending on whether you find them at the beginning of a word, like _A_ pple' he said writing the word 'or c _a_ t'.

 

But the boy looked at the blackboard quizzically.

 

'I don't understand'.

 

Hannibal paused for a brief moment. He remembered thinking that teaching Will how to read would be relatively easy now that he knew the boy was a synesthete. But he hadn't expected this.

 

'We'll try a different approach' he said frowning and trying to think of another way to explain this. After a little hesitation, Hannibal wrote the number one on the blackboard 'What colour is _1_ in your mind, Will?'

 

'Red, sir' came the quick answer.

 

'And 2?'

 

'White'.

 

'So, if I write _12_ , you would see... a sort of light red, right?'

 

Will shook his head.

 

'No, sir. Twelve is yellow because twelve is three times four and three is green and four is blue. So, yellow'.

 

Hannibal looked at the boy perplexed. He was trying to make a point about the vowels using Will's ability to see the colours in numbers, but now he wasn't sure it would work.

 

'So, sixteen must be... navy blue, right? Four times four. Blue... plus more blue.'

 

Will smiled and dangled his feet under the desk.

 

'No, Mr. Lecter. Sixteen is white, because eight is black and two is white. Black times white equals white. Always'.

 

Hannibal frowned at the boy thoughtfully. It was obvious Will's gift was unique, and the logic behind it was only known to him. He could probably spend weeks trying to understand it, and still he would get nowhere near it. And it wouldn't certainly help him to teach the boy how to read.

 

'Let's go back to the beginning' he said in a slightly impatient tone ' _A_ and _a_ are different written forms of the same sound. They are pronounced the same and they have the same name because they _are_ the same letter. Writing _A_ or _a_ only aids in clarity when writing. Do you understand?'

 

But Will shook his head and shrugged.

 

'How can they be different if they are the same?'

 

Hannibal clenched his jaw in frustration. He was the best tutor in London, yet he couldn't make his boy understand the vowels. Will looked at him expectantly, he was clearly waiting for an answer, and Hannibal realized he didn't have one.

 

'I think' he said cleaning the blackboard 'I think we're going to move to some fractions'.

 

\---

 

Hannibal was deep in thought as his carriage made its way through the busy streets of London. His boy was frightfully clever, as his brilliant results in the fractions exercises demonstrated. Few twelve years old could have solved all the fractions correctly, and he had even converted the results to decimals, quite a remarkable achievement for his age. However, Will could also be infuriatingly naive at the same time, struggling with such a simple concept as the vowels and not being able to understand it.

 

Hannibal was reluctant to admit it, but the truth was that he was at a loss with the boy. During his three decades as a private tutor, he had taught complex Latin grammar and advanced arithmetical concepts to many pupils, but none had ever posed such a challenge as Will. For a moment he thought he might not be able to reach him, and the idea left him upset and frustrated.

 

Hannibal paid the driver as his carriage finally stopped at the Crawford House. He had never found the time he spent tutoring little Jack particularly satisfying, but for the first time in many weeks he was actually looking forward his lesson with him. At least there would be no unexpected questions with him, no doubts and no hesitations. Just a normal Latin class for a very normal boy.

 

But when Hannibal entered the library of the mansion, he realized this would be no normal class at all. Mr. Crawford was already crying, his eyes filled with tears and his nose red from rubbing it with the back of his sleeve.

 

'I'm sorry Mr. Lecter' he said presenting him with his notebook 'But Jupiter ate my homework'.

 

'Jupiter' Hannibal said leaving his leather bag on the desk 'The god of thunder?'

 

'No, sir' Jack sniffled 'My cat'.

 

Hannibal examined the notebook and found the last two pages had been torn away.

 

'And I-- I had worked so hard, Mr. Lecter' the boy sobbed 'I spent hours on the translation you sent last week, but this morning when I woke up... it wasn't there anymore.'

 

Hannibal left the notebook on the desk and saw out of the corner of his eye the two pair of Mary Jane shoes behind the cabinet. The wicked girls were already there, and as Hannibal had anticipated, they had messed with Jack's homework so that he would get a good caning. Little did they know the tutor had other plans for them.

 

'Mr. Crawford' he said sauntering to the cabinet 'I believe you'.

 

The boy looked stunned.

 

'You- you do?'

 

'Why, of course. Naughty kittens are notorious for their taste in Latin homework. They rip pages off with their little paws and eat them. Didn't you know that?'

 

Jack was so shocked that for a moment he didn't know what to say. He looked wide-eyed at the stern tutor, who had never _ever_ joked about anything.

 

'So, when I find these naughty kittens' Hannibal continued 'I'll need to punish them'.

 

He pushed the cabinet to the side then, and the two girls squealed in fear.

 

'Well, well' Hannibal said raising an eyebrow 'What do we have here?'

 

And before the girls could react, he took them each by the ear and walked them to the middle of the library.

 

'Oww!' Alana and Freddie cried, wincing in pain and struggling to keep up with the tutor's long strides. Hannibal let go of them at last, and watched as they rubbed their red ears with a pout.

 

'Good afternoon, ladies. Could you please explain what were you doing hiding behind the cabinet?'

 

'Nothing' Alana replied 'We were just... Hum...'

 

She looked at her friend for help, and Freddie said:

 

'We were just...' she trailed off and blushed a little, but in the end she managed to make up a lie 'We wanted to listen to your lesson, Mr. Lecter'.

 

'Yes' Alana confirmed 'Exactly'.

 

'I see' Hannibal said tilting his head with a thoughtful expression 'That's very commendable of you. But as you may have heard, we cannot begin the lesson because Mr. Crawford's translations is missing. Do you happen to know something about it?'

 

The girls were silent for a moment, but they exchanged a quick conspirational look between them.

 

'A translation?' Alana said with as much mock innocence as she could fake 'What translation?'

 

'Poor Jack!' Freddie pouted 'The cat ate your homework? You shouldn't have left the notebook open on the kitchen table'.

 

'Yes, Mr. Lecter' Alana continued in an evil tone 'Jack is always so careless. You should punish him'.

 

'For his own good, of course' Freddie had the audacity to say 'So that he learns his lesson'.

 

Hannibal snorted softly and smiled at the girls.

 

'Miss Freddie' he said crouching down to look her in the eye 'How do you Mr. Crawford's notebook was on the kitchen table?'

 

The girl blushed, and she looked anxiously at Alana for help.

 

'Well, I know because... because...' 

 

'We were in the kitchen for milk and cookies' Alana said 'And we saw Jupiter jumping on the kitchen table. And then... Then...'

 

'No, it was before lunch time' Freddie contradicted 'We went to the kitchen for a glass of water and we saw Jupiter was sniffling the Latin notebook... Because it had... had... _breadcumbs!'_

 

'Yes, breadcrumbs!' Alana confirmed.

 

'On the pages, and so the cat, hum, it started to eat... the pages... of the notebook' Freddie looked at the tutor with a smile when she finished her tale 'You said so yourself, Mr. Lecter. Cats have a taste for Latin homework'.

 

'They do' Hannibal said cupping the chin of the little girl 'They do'.

 

He stood up with a grin and walked towards the chimney of the library. The girls sucked in a breath when the tutor picked the cane and swished it in the air.

 

'Mr. Crawford' Hannibal said as he took his jacket off 'How many hours did you spend doing that translation?'

 

The boy had shrunk at the sight of the dreaded cane, and he had to lick his lips before replying.

 

'Em... Two on Friday... And three more on Saturday morning. I know because I couldn't go to the city with father and--'

 

'Good' Hannibal interrupted rolling up his right sleeve 'That makes five strokes, ladies. Plus five more if you don't confess and apologize _right now'._

 

The girls gasped in fear and squeezed their hands together. None of them spoke for a tense moment, but the look they exchanged told Hannibal what he already knew.

 

'But we... we have done nothing wrong, Mr. Lecter!' Freddie cried.

 

'Yes, it was the cat and you're blaming us for something we didn't do!' Alana replied in an indignant tone 'I'll-- I'll tell father'.

 

'Oh' he said walking slowly towards her 'Of course you will. You'll tell your father how you stole your brother's homework with your friend. You'll tell him how you lied and back talked to me like an impudent, cheeky girl and not the lady you are. And when you've taken ten strokes with my cane, you'll tell him how you'll never do it again'.

 

Alana gave out a yelp as Hannibal grabbed her by the arm and made her bend over the desk.

 

'Mr. Crawford, please. Wait outside while I discipline these two little fibbers'.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check the updates tags and enjoy! :D

 

Hannibal returned home later than usual. The punishment of Freddie and Alana had taken longer than expected, what with the constant sobbing and pleadings of the two wicked girls. They broke position after each stroke, punching the desk and stomping the floor as they wailed in an incessant high-pitched tone. It seemed they had only been hand spanked before, and so the searing pain of the cane was a completely new experience for them.

 

Hannibal was not bothered by their tears, only upset that a quick and efficient punishment was taking so long. He was careful not to deliver the strokes with full force, but their constant wriggling made some of the blows more painful than what they had to be. Contrary to what his pupils believed, he didn't enjoy administering a caning, but when it was necessary he never hesitated. Hannibal was not a religious man, but he firmly believed that sparing the rod would only spoil the child. Especially if the child in question was mischievous and naughty.

 

As the freshly caned girls stood in two different corners in the library, the tutor opened the door so that Jack could get a look while he wrote a note to Mr. Crawford, sr. It would have been improper for a boy to witness the punishment of a girl, especially if it was done on the bare with her knickers down, but after the many times Freddie and Alana had spied on Jack, Hannibal thought it was only fair that the kid could get a glimpse at his sister and friend's bright red bottoms.

 

'You can pull your skirts down' he instructed after the corner time was over and the note sealed in an envelope 'And don't forget your lines for next week. _I will never misbehave and tell lies_ a hundred times. If you fail to write them in perfect handwriting, you'll get six strokes with the cane'.

 

The two girls shivered in fear, and they lowered their heads as they blinked away some more tears.

 

'Yes, Mr. Lecter'.

 

'Good afternoon, ladies' he said putting his books and papers in his leather bag. As he left the library at last, Hannibal bumped into little Jack.

 

'Mr. Crawford' he said raising an eyebrow. The boy blushed when he realized he had been caught eavesdropping, but Hannibal pretended not to notice 'Please give this note to your father. We'll resume our lessons next week. I know you were not responsible for the lost translation, but since we couldn't work on it today, I'm afraid you'll have to do it again. Please be careful with the gerundives and remember to identify all the instances of ablative absolute'.

 

The boy nodded quickly. Normally the news of having to do his homework again would have made him angry and frustrated, but now he only looked at his tutor with a solemn expression on his face.

 

'Thank you, Mr. Lecter'.

 

'For what?' Hannibal asked in surprise.

 

'For believing me'.

 

\---

 

It was well past 4:20 p.m. when Hannibal got home. He should have been back at three, in time for his afternoon lesson with Will, but now it was too late. Hannibal was always very strict with his schedules, and it angered him that he would miss the lesson with his boy because of the mischief at the Crawford's.

 

But maybe it was for the best. Hannibal hadn't come up yet with a methodology that would allow him to teach Will how to read, so maybe they could spend the time before dinner in a more productive way. Listening to music, for example. Synesthetes had a remarkable ability to see colours in musical notes, but having lived in the orphanage all his life, it was unlikely that Will had ever heard something other than the church bells.

 

Hannibal had an excellent collection of records for his gramophone, and after some consideration, he decided Mozart would make an excellent choice for Will's first musical experience. The Flute and Harp concerto in C was soothing and relaxing, yet at the same time dream like in its cadence and rhythm. Hannibal could already picture the cherubic face of his lovely boy transfixed with amazement as he listened, curious about how the gramophone worked and transported into his peculiar imagination by the harmonious notes of the concert.

 

Hannibal left his bag and coat in his office and then walked to the kitchen.

 

'Good afternoon, Mrs. Gaskin. Where is Will?'

 

The old housekeeper was peeling potatoes on the counter, and she stopped with the knife in her hand to address the tutor.

 

'Good afternoon, doctor. The young master is in his room. He was playing with the puppy in the garden, but I sent him up when it started to drizzle'.

 

'Good. Thank you, Mrs. Gaskin'.

 

Hannibal climbed the stairs with a happy whistle. After the Flute concerto he would prepare a delicious roasted chicken with herb potatoes for dinner. They would dine together in the dining room, and after more music he would read Will to sleep. Hannibal thought that if he could interest the boy in some stories then maybe he would encourage his desire to read on his own.

 

As he walked down the corridor, he considered several titles, from _Treasure Island_ to _Gulliver's Travels_ . _Ivanhoe_ had always been a favourite, and he knew Will would very much like the adventures of the knights and tournaments. He opened the door of his bedroom with a fond smile, expecting to find his beautiful boy in his sailor uniform, but as he entered the room he realized there was nobody there.

 

'Will?' he asked with a frown, and a sudden fear knotted his stomach.

 

The memory of a few days past, when he was convinced he had lost the boy forever, made him open the wardrobe and look under the bed. But the boy wasn't hiding there.

 

'Will?' he called going out to the corridor, and suddenly he sighed in relief when he saw there was light coming from under the bathroom door.

 

'Will?' he said knocking softly on the door, but when he got no answer he frowned and cracked it open.

 

What he saw made him freeze on the spot. His boy was there, kneeling on the floor with his pants down, his little ass raised in the air and Abigail's brush in his hand. The jar of vaseline was open by his side, and Hannibal watched as Will dipped the handle in the lube and tried to push it between his cheeks. He was grunting in pain and frustration, though, because despite his efforts it was clear his young and tender anus could not take the girth of the handle without a proper stretching.

 

'Oww' he winced stroking his little dick to ease the pain 'Why is it not working, Winston?'

 

The puppy was by his side, and he perked his ears when he saw Hannibal entering the bathroom.

 

'Maybe it needs more--' Will dipped the tip of the handle into the vaseline again, coating it with the stuff until it was positively dripping with in it.

 

'What are you doing?'

 

The boy startled and looked back, and when he saw his tutor he beamed with his carefree, happy innocence.

 

'Mr. Lecter!' he exclaimed getting on his feet. His sailor pants pooled around his ankles, revealing his skinny legs and infantile erection 'I'm so happy you're back, I was so bored this afternoon and missed you so bad and wondered when you'll be returning from the city and--'

 

'Will' Hannibal said clenching his jaw 'What.are.you.doing?'

 

The boy frowned when he realized how stern and serious his tutor looked. He looked at the brush on the floor and gave a one shoulder shrug as if it were obvious.

 

'Playing the tail game'.

 

There was a moment of tense silence between them, and Will frowned.

 

'But I can't- can't--' he trailed off and swallowed hard 'Mr. Lecter, have I done something wrong?'

 

Hannibal looked at him through half-closed eyes. The boy was amoral in the way only children were, and he sought his own pleasure without regard for any social norm or constraint. And while Hannibal admired his purity, Will's unabashed sexuality made him feel cheated. And _fooled_. How did his boy dare to touch himself without his permission? How did he dare to enjoy his body behind his back? A dark wave of possessive jealousy blinded Hannibal, and he crossed the bathroom in two long strides to pick the brush and vaseline jar from the floor.

 

'You can't play this game on your own' he sentenced.

 

'Why not?'

 

'Because you _can't'_   Hannibal said raising his voice. He was very close to loosing his temper, something that hadn't happened in years.

 

Will blinked in confusion and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

'I don't understand'.

 

For a split second Hannibal saw himself pulling the boy on his lap and spanking his ass red with the brush, all night long if need be until he _understood_. The vowels first, and then this. He gripped the sticky brush so hard his knuckles turned white, and Will took a step back in fear.

 

'Mr. Lecter?' he breathed, and the fear  in his voice snapped Hannibal out of the moment. He would never hurt his boy, _never_. That had been his promise and he would keep it no matter what. A sense of clarity finally seeped into his mind, calming the raging emotions and allowing him to think with perspective.

 

Punishing Will would teach him nothing. The boy wasn't aware he had done something wrong, so although a spanking would allow Hannibal to vent his anger, it would surely destroy the bond he had worked so hard to cement with his boy. Hannibal realized that he needed to make sure Will's sexuality was under his control, _his_ and only _his_. And he very well knew how to do it.

 

'Will' he said kneeling down on the floor to be at eye level with him 'I have also missed you very much today. While I was in the city, all I wanted was to return home to play this game with you. So imagine how I felt a moment ago, when I realized you had started without me'.

 

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but Hannibal continued.

 

'I am so hurt that you wouldn't wait for me, Will. After all, this is _my_ game. I thought you were a good and generous boy, but you've acted very selfishly. It feels like you don't want to play with me. Maybe you don't love me anymore'.

 

Will's eyes filled with tears then, and his bottom lip started to tremble.

 

'B-but Mister Lecter I--' he hiccuped 'I love you very much, I-- I-' he looked at his tutor with a pale face 'Please don't send me back'.

 

Will broke down in a mass of sobs and hugged him fiercely, scared but overall ashamed that he had betrayed his tutor so. Hannibal hushed him down, petting his curls and running his hand down his back as the pitiful whimpers wreaked his young body.

 

'I will never send you back, Will' he soothed 'You're my ward now, and I'll always take care of you. But you must be a good boy for me. I want to be proud of you, but I can't if you behave like this. Will you make me a promise?'

 

The boy nodded, rubbing his snot and tears on the tutor's shoulder.

 

'You will never play alone again. Whenever you want to play, you'll look for me, so that I can kiss you and make you feel good. Do you promise?'

 

Will looked at him, and even though his face was red and tear stained, Hannibal thought he had never looked more beautiful than before.

 

'I promise' he said with the solemnity and seriousness only a child could.

 

'Good' Hannibal replied with a little smile 'Let's get you cleaned then'.

 

Hannibal soaked a washcloth in warm water and rubbed his boy's face, patting it dry and blowing his nose after the good weep. Now that it was all over Will was limp and pliant, and Hannibal sat him on the bathroom table and took off his sailor pants and underwear.

 

'On your hands and knees' he said 'I need to clean this mess'.

 

The boy obeyed quickly, and Hannibal added some soap to the washcloth. Will had been using so much vaseline that his ass and thighs were slick, and so Hannibal started to clean the sticky lube slowly, running the washcloth up and down his soft skin until he was good as new.

 

When he got to his little cleft and spread his cheeks open, Hannibal felt a renewed wave of jealousy. His boy's tender hole was red and a little puffy, what with his repeated efforts with the hairbrush. He hadn't managed to breach his anus to slid the handle inside, but Hannibal felt the compulsive need to clean him of all that, as if he could wipe away the ghost feeling still clinging to Will's skin and impose his own.

 

And that was exactly what he did, once the smear of vaseline had been cleaned he started to rub the puckered entrance with the tip of his finger, teasing the tight rim in slow circles and pressing a little inside.

 

'It feels better when _I_ do it, right Will?'

 

'Y-yes' he whispered, and he snaked a hand down his body to grab his little dick, but he froze mid way. Hannibal saw it and grinned wolfishly.

 

'Very good, Will' he said caressing his soft penis 'You must let me do this. _Always_ , do you understand?'

 

'Yes, Mr. Lecter' he murmured, and started to hump his hand eagerly.

 

'Very good' Hannibal praised feeling the childish erection growing between his fingers. He would train Will to associate pleasure with _him_ , so that the boy didn't have more solitary, empty ejaculations on his own. They would all be gifted to his tutor from now on, each and every one of them.

 

Hannibal slid the tip of his finger deep into his rosy hole, feeling it clench around him with a smile. He spat to ease the friction and mark his boy more intimately, pushing his finger in and out slowly and relishing in the delicious little gasps Will was making. The little dick jumped in his hand, and when it was good and hard, he let it go.

 

'Nnn' Will groaned, humping the air as a frustrated puppy.

 

'Shh' Hannibal cooed 'Feel my finger, Will. It feels good, does it not?'

 

'But I want- I need--' he snaked an eager hand between his thighs to touch his penis, but Hannibal batted it away.

 

'Tut tut' he warned 'You must be good and obedient when we play, Will'.

 

The boy squirmed on the table, and Hannibal chuckled at his angry huff. It would take him a while to get used to this new game, but Hannibal was a very patient man. He continued the relentless fingerfucking, making sure to nudge the little prostate in a sharp stacatto rhythm. The boy would come like this or he wouldn't come at all, a necessary exercise in submissiveness that would teach him that a brisk anal penetration was all he needed to feel good. And after a few intense minutes his hole was red and beautifully swollen, gaping loose and lovely as Hannibal increased the rhythm.

 

'Mis-st-ter Lecter!' Will breathed shuddering all of a sudden, and Hannibal watched as his little dick throbbed and pulsed, releasing a drop of pearly fluid that was immediately followed by a stream of urine.

 

'Ah, ah!' Will sobbed, feeling his body racked by tremors as he lost control of it completely. Hannibal watched in wonderment as his boy pissed himself in post-orgasmic relief, and it was so unexpected, yet at the same time so very innocent, that he couldn't help a fond smile of satisfaction.

 

'Ssshhh' Hannibal hushed as he worked his finger in and out of his hole, making a few last spurts leak out of him 'You've done very well, Will'.

 

The boy was so lost and confused that for a moment he didn't know what had happened, and Hannibal scooped him in his arms and transferred him to the bathtub.

 

'I'm s-soo' he started when he caught his breath 'S-sorry, Mr. Lecter'. His face was flushed with shame and eyes welled up with tears again.

 

'And why would you be?' the tutor said opening the faucet 'I'm very proud of you'.

 

'Y-you- you are?' Will sniffled with a frown, watching with increased agitation the ruined table.

 

'Of course' Hannibal replied 'The purpose of this game was to make you feel good. Did I make you feel good?'

 

Will shrugged, still hesitant and embarrassed.

 

'Yes?' he tried with a renewed blush 'B-but--'

 

'Making a mess is not always wrong, Will' Hannibal said tenderly 'Sometimes it can be quite fun, and I hope we can play like this many times'.

 

Hannibal knelt on the floor to clean his boy with the washcloth, but first he kissed his soft dick and tasted a drop of urine from its tiny pinky head. He licked him clean then, thoroughly, possessively, tonguing his infantile penis and balls and relishing in the bittersweet smell of his smooth skin.

 

'Then you're not angry with me?' Will asked warily.

 

Hannibal worked a rich lather with the bar of soap and rubbed it down his belly and thighs.

 

'Not at all. We'll tell Mrs. Gaskin to clean the bathroom and then we'll have dinner together. And since you've been such a good boy, there will be a surprise after that'.

 

'A surprise?' Will beamed excitedly.

 

'That's right' Hannibal said washing the foam away. The tutor was about to get the towel to dry him when the boy hugged him all of a sudden.

 

'Oh, Mr. Lecter' he whispered 'I love you so much'.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Hannibal had planned to play some of his favourite music to Will after dinner, the Flute and Harp concerto in C by Mozart if he recalled correctly, but as it turned out, his lovely boy was just too exhausted. The delicious lamb roast and their little game in the bathroom had left him satiated and sleepy when it was barely 7.30 p.m., and his eyelids grew heavy as he entered the library. He hadn't been allowed to this room of the house yet, but not even his natural curiosity could keep him awake. He looked at the stuffed eagle and golden gramophone with a frown, but as he sat down on the sky blue sofa, Will couldn't help to stretch and yawn.

 

'I'll be reading while you listen to the concert' Hannibal said locating the record he was looking for in his extensive collection 'If you like the experience, which I'm sure you will, then we'll listen to music every evening before--'

 

Hannibal trailed off as he turned to place the record on the gramophone. Will was fast asleep in the sofa, curled in a ball and with his shoes up on the luxurious upholstery. Hannibal sighed and wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He put the record back and moved to the sofa, sitting by his tender boy and unbuckling the shiny leather straps of his sailor shoes. He smiled at the golden anchor on the buckle and kissed Will's feet, smelling the wool of his socks and his unique scent. The boy barely noticed, and continued sleeping like the innocent little lamb he was.

 

Hannibal gave him a kiss on the forehead and moved to his leather chair, picking his copy of _On Heroes_ by Carlyle and opening it where he had left the night before, right at the beginning of the chapter on Dante. He started to read when he suddenly realized Will may be cold. But the fire was rolling in the fireplace, so it was unlikely that he would need a blanket.

 

Hannibal was content to guard his boy's sleep like this, watching him every now and then as he turned the pages of his book. When he heard Mrs. Gaskin leave, he left his chair and poured himself a whiskey, smiling softly as Will stirred in his sleep. It was late and he should be in bed already, but Hannibal found he enjoyed the domesticity and tranquility of this evening, with his boy so blissfully asleep on the sofa as he read a little before retiring for the night.

 

When the clock struck 9 p.m. Hannibal put down his book and picked his sweet boy in his arms. Will murmured something in his sleep, and Hannibal smiled as he took him to the bedroom. He feared Will would wake up as he stripped him of his sailor suit and pulled the nightshirt over his head, but he shouldn't have worried. The boy was so blessedly asleep that he would dream well into the next day, and Hannibal kissed him one last time on the cheek before folding his suit over the chair and leaving for his own bedroom. He had always been a light sleeper, but that night he had a long, restful sleep, knowing his beloved boy was safe and secure under his roof.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Hannibal woke up surprisingly late and good humoured. It was already 6:47 a.m., and he dressed up quickly, looking forward to the day ahead with his boy. He put on his maroon suit and blue cravat, tying it neatly and grooming himself to perfection. He walked dow the corridor to Will's room, already eager to wake him up, but when he opened the door he found no one there. The sheets of the bed were pulled back and crumpled, and for a moment the old fear of having lost his boy gripped Hannibal. It only lasted a moment, though, as he suddenly heard an excited giggle coming from downstairs. Will had probably woken up early and gone down to the kitchen, where Mrs. Gaskin would surely be preparing breakfast.

 

Hannibal went down the stairs and entered the kitchen to find Will kneeling on a stool by the counter, watching intently as Mrs. Gaskin beat the eggs in a big bowl for the afternoon plum cake. He was still in his night shirt, his hair a mass of disheveled curls, and he was wearing no socks or slippers. Hannibal was about to warn him about the dangers of catching a cold when Will suddenly saw him standing by the door of the kitchen.

 

'Mr. Lecter!' he cried excitedly 'I understand it now!'

 

Hannibal was surprised by this sudden outburst, and he frowned for a moment as it seemed Will had forgotten his most basic manners. He expected a polite _Good morning_ every morning, but the overjoyed cry of the boy mellowed him in the end.

 

'Good morning, Will' he said approaching the kitchen table 'What do you understand?'

 

'Look!' the boy exclaimed pointing at the beaten eggs in the bowl and at the scrambled eggs Mrs. Gaskin was keeping warm on a plate by the hob 'Don't you see?'

 

'He's been like that since he woke up, Dr. Lecter' Mrs. Gaskin said adding sugar to the beaten eggs 'I don't know what he means'.

 

Hannibal raised a curious eyebrow and smiled. His boy was obviously very much excited about something he had discovered, but he didn't follow his reasoning.

 

'I don't know what is there to see there, Will'.

 

'The alphabet!' he exclaimed 'These are capital letters' he said pointing  at the beaten eggs 'And these lower case letters' he pointed at the scrambled eggs next 'But they're the same, because they all come from here!'

 

Will took one of the eggs from the wicker basket on the counter and gave it to a perplexed Hannibal 'They're only different in shape and taste, but they're all eggs. Like the letters. I understand it now'.

 

Hannibal considered the egg on his hand and looked at Mrs. Gaskin, who shrugged and continued preparing the plum cake. He had been wondering how he would teach his boy to read after the frustrating experience from the day before, when it had been painfully clear that being the best tutor in London and having more than thirty years of experience was not enough to reach Will. And now it seemed his boy had come to the solution all by himself, without needing Hannibal at all.

 

'I see' he said leaving the egg back in the basket 'I understand what you mean, Will. And you're right'.

 

Will beamed overjoyed.

 

'I so want to start reading!' he cried 'When can we start, Mr. Lecter?'

 

Hannibal chuckled warmly at his excitement.

 

'Well, as soon as we have breakfast. But first things first, dear Will. You're not properly dressed and you haven't washed your face yet'.

 

'Oh' he pouted, suddenly self conscious about his wrinkled nightshirt and bare feet 'I'm so sorry, Mr. Lecter, I woke up and I was hungry and--'

 

'Go now' Hannibal said 'And don't forget to comb your hair. I'll be waiting for you here'.

 

'Yes, Mr. Lecter!'

 

The boy disappeared down the corridor quickly, and Hannibal looked at the basket of eggs lost in thought for a moment. It would have never occurred to him to explain the alphabet in such a simple way, what made him feel a mix of contradictory feelings. On the one hand, he was proud that his boy was so talented and clever. He shone more brightly than any other kid he had ever known, with an inner strength and innocence that escaped rules and definitions. But that scared him too, as if the very same gift he had posed a strange danger to him. After all, Hannibal couldn't quite ignore his blatant inability to teach him. Maybe one day, there would be nothing else he could offer Will. Maybe one day, Will would have learnt all he could from him and would run away, just like Abigail did.

 

The painful memory was interrupted by Mrs. Gaskin, who, in an unbecoming moment of sincerity, said:

 

'The young master is very special'.

 

Hannibal nodded, still lost in his distant memories.

 

'Yes. Yes he is'.

 

There was a brief silence then, when none of them spoke. It was broken when Hannibal moved around the counter to finish preparing Will's breakfast, and Mrs. Gaskin continued with the plum cake.

 

'Here I am!' Will said appearing on the kitchen door a few minutes later 'Good morning, Mr. Lecter. Good morning, Mrs. Gaskin' he politely remembered to say, and smiled as Hannibal approached him to inspect his suit.

 

Will smelled of fresh lavender soap and his hair was still a little tangled, but he had managed to dress himself really well today. Hannibal straightened his sailor bow although it wasn't strictly necessary, and then he said:

 

'Good morning Will. I trust you rested well'.

 

'Very well, Mr. Lecter' he said sitting at the table 'Can I have a cup of chocolate today?'

 

Hannibal chuckled.

 

'You can always have chocolate, Will. But I have prepared something different for you today'.

 

' _Oh_ ' Will looked a little disappointed, but his face beamed up when Hannibal put the breakfast plate in front of him. He started to eat the scrambled eggs and bacon voraciously, giggling at the three pancakes that waited for him topped with double cream.

 

'This is sweet milk with cinnamon and lemon' Hannibal said putting a glass by his side 'A Mediterranean recipe'.

 

Will frowned at the brown stick and yellow peel decorating the glass.

 

'What is cinnamon? And who is Mediterranean?'

 

'Not who, where' Hannibal said pouring himself a cup of coffee 'We'll study Geography soon enough. Now, finish your breakfast'.

 

Will nodded and continued eating, and when after a while he took a sip of the milk, his eyes went wide with wonderment.

 

'Oh, Mr. Lecter! It's- it's--' he looked for the right words unsuccessfully, then laughed in a carefree way 'It's so good!'

 

He drank again, and again, and Hannibal smiled broadly.

 

'I'm happy you like it, Will. And you can have as much as you want, for breakfast and tea'.

 

-

 

A little later Will was sitting at his desk in Mr. Lecter's office, staring at the blackboard with a focused frown as Hannibal wrote: _I live in London_.

 

'Can you read this for me, Will?'

 

'Mmm' he said squinting his eyes 'That's, hum. Letter "I". _I_... _live in_...' he hesitated and then said ' _L-_ _L_ _ondon_ '. “I live in London”'.

 

'Very good, Will. What about this?' he said writing _My name is Will_.

 

'Oh' he smiled 'But you've written the same letter, Mr. Lecter, only upside down'.

 

Hannibal looked at the blackboard and saw the elegant _M_ and _W_ he had written.

 

'Read it, please'.

 

' _MMMy... name... is... W_ _ww_ _ill_ ' he said, then repeated it slowly to himself.

 

'Do you see any colours in the letters?' Hannibal asked with curiosity.

 

'No, they're all... black. But they don't look as dead as before'.

 

Hannibal lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. He wrote one final line on the blackboard, and Will read it carefully.

 

' _I... am... twelve...years old._ Twelve' he said with a little smile when he thought of the friendly number, always bright and yellow in his mind.

 

'Good' Hannibal said leaving the chalk and dusting his hands 'I'd like you to write these sentences in your notebook, Will. Twenty times each. But first, you'll write the alphabet down. Uppercase and lower case, of course. Be careful with the ink' he said opening the inkwell for him 'And try to write the letters as neatly as possible'.

 

Will grabbed the nib pen awkwardly and sighed. He wasn't very good writing with the pen, so he tried to focus hard to do it the best he could. Hannibal watched him work for a moment, then went to his desk to prepare more exercises. Will finished after a while, and he raised his hand to say:

 

'I'm done, Mr. Lecter'.

 

'Good. Come here with your notebook'.

 

Will nodded and left his desk, presenting his tutor the notebook with the two pages he had filled with letters.

 

Hannibal's heart sank when he saw his handwriting. The boy had made a great effort, but the letters were slanted right and left, some of them bigger than others and several almost illegible. All the strokes were shaky, and it was obvious Will didn't know where to start the movement that would make an _f_ or a _k_. Hannibal was about to speak when he frowned at a few stray letters the boy had written at the bottom of the page.

 

'What are these, Will?'

 

'Oh, these are the funny letters'.

 

'What do you mean?' he said reading with a surprised look what the boy had written 'These do not belong in the English alphabet'.

 

'I know' Will replied 'but some kids at the orphanage wrote them. I don't know where they're from but look. This is the angry n'.

 

Will pointed at the first letter he had written, an _ñ_.

 

'You see it's angry because it's always frowning'.

 

'Will' Hannibal said in a patient tone 'That's a Spanish letter, it's not—'

 

'And this' he said pointing at an _ß_ 'This is the pregnant lady'.

 

'This letter is from the German alphabet, Will. It's called eszet'.

 

The boy didn't pay much attention, excited as he was showing his tutor the many funny letters he knew.

 

'And this is the candelabra' he said pointing at a Greek  _Ψ '_ and this is the c who is fishing with a hook' he explained about a French _ç_.

 

Hannibal couldn't help a warm smile. His bright, innocent boy had a remarkable imagination.

 

'That's all very good, Will. But you need to improve your handwriting, so we're going to devote an hour a day to do calligraphy exercises'.

 

'Ooh' he said in disappointment 'But that sounds so difficult, Mr. Lecter'.

 

'Practice makes perfect' Hannibal intoned 'You will also have a reading hour a day, and then we'll do Arithmetic exercises. We'll study no Latin for the moment'.

 

The thought of doing additions and subtractions cheered him up. Will liked numbers so much, and was eager to prove he was good at them to make it up for his poor reading and writing skills.

 

'Then you're not mad at me then?' he said looking at the two pages he had filled with shaky, trembling letters.

 

'Of course not, Will' Hannibal replied 'Remember I am a tutor. There's nothing more satisfactory to me than to teach young pupils like you. And to see how they learn'.

 

That made Will smile shyly, and he returned to his desk ready to begin the new lesson.

 

'Should I write those sentences then, Mr. Lecter?' he said pointing at the blackboard.

 

'No' Hannibal said erasing them 'We'll begin with something more basic... but very important'.

 

Hannibal pulled his chair from behind his desk and sat by Will's side.

 

'Nib pen, ink, ruled paper. Calligraphy is an art, Will' he said writing his name with a beautiful flourish that left the boy slack-jawed 'We'll start with the stroke sequence so you know where to begin writing each letter'.

 

'Han.. Han-ni...bal Lec—ter' Will muttered, finding the italics particularly difficult to read 'Is that your name, Mr. Lecter?'

 

'Yes, it is'.

 

'Hannibal' Will whispered, as he hadn't known what his tutor's first name was up to that moment 'What does it mean?'

 

Hannibal was surprised by the question.

 

'It means...' he hesitated, the concept of _grace_ and _Ba'al_ probably too difficult to explain to his boy yet 'Hannibal was a great general who crossed... He fought many wars against his enemies with elephants'.

 

'Elephants!' Will exclaimed 'Like the ones we saw at the zoo?'

 

Hannibal nodded, then picked the nib pen.

 

'William means warrior. A strong protector'.

 

Will beamed at his tutor.

 

'How do you know so much, Mr. Lecter?'

 

Hannibal couldn't help a smile of warm satisfaction, and dipped the nib pen in the inkwell.

 

'Look here, Will' he said instructing him on how to hold the pen correctly 'You have to use your thumb, index finger and middle finger to write properly. No, not like that. Rest the pencil on the middle finger and don't make a fist with your hand'.

 

It took a while, but in the end Will held the pen right and started with the calligraphy exercises. Hannibal had to correct Will several times as he practiced the strokes that made an _a,_ repeating the instructions with infinite patience and care. After five lines they moved to write the letters _c, d_ and _o_ , leaving the _g_ and _q_ for the next day.

 

When the first hour of the lesson was over Will had blotted ink on the notebook and several stains on his fingers, but Hannibal was proud. It would probably take a couple of months to teach Will how to write properly, but Hannibal was in no rush. After all, he was a very patient man.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

When the calligraphy exercises were over, Hannibal informed Will that he could take a little break before the Arithmetic lesson. They boy deserved it after his great effort, and all the pupils Hannibal tutored privately also had a fifteen minute break when they were having two or more lessons in the morning.

 

'I suggest you spend the time wisely, Will. You can reflect on what you've learnt, or read, or even pray if you feel--'

 

'Can I play with Winston in the garden, Mr. Lecter?' Will asked leaving his desk excitedly.

 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow in surprise, but on second thought, he should have expected it.

 

'Well, of course. But please be careful and don't stain your sailor suit'.

 

'Yes, Mr. Lecter!' he said, and a moment later Hannibal could see him through the windows of his office, playing and jumping with his little puppy in the garden.

 

'Fetch it, Winston!' he cried throwing a branch as far as he could, and the puppy barked happily as he retrieved it for his master.

 

Hannibal couldn't help a little smile as he lit a long, brown cigarette. His pupils wouldn't dare of doing something so physical as running in a garden, inappropriate and unhealthy as it was considered to be. But where Will was concerned, Hannibal knew better. Playing with his puppy had been the only solace for the boy for the past months, and although he still felt a pang of jealousy, he had long decided Will would keep his little dog.

 

When the break was over his lovely boy returned sweaty and flushed, but so very happy that Hannibal let him rest five extra minutes as he started to write the first addition of the morning. Will completed it swiftly, and then moved to a subtraction with decimals. Again he completed the task successfully, so Hannibal asked him to do a multiplication, a division and two fractions. He had to help the boy with a particularly difficult square root, as his method of solving them was not the most appropriate. But the boy picked on it quickly, and he asked his tutor to write another one to prove that he had learned it.

 

'Excellent' Hannibal praised when he finished, and Will swelled with pride 'As you've done so well and I have no classes on Friday afternoon, we can go to the new Embaknment Gardens for a walk. And you can put on your new Sunday suit'.

 

'What Sunday suit?' Will asked opening his eyes wide.

 

'Come' Hannibal said with a little smile 'The taylor brought it while you were playing in the garden'.

 

-

 

Will felt he was dreaming the most beautiful dream he had ever had. He was walking with his tutor down the gravel path of the Embakment Gardens, which were full of flowers, birds and big, leafy trees. He was walking Winston on the bright leather leash Mr. Lecter had bought for him, and every now and then his tutor would stop to greet someone politely. All the eyes of the old ladies and gentlemen were fixed on them, and they gossiped avidly when they passed by. Will knew it must be because of his new suit, the best he had ever seen. It was all white, the jacket and the pants, with a blue jean collar and golden buttons. He was also wearing a brand new pair of shoes, also white and with a golden buckle. Will had been so happy with the new suit that he had hugged Mr. Lecter tight, thanking him as he gave little jumps and started to take off his navy blue uniform.

 

Hannibal had helped him get dressed, and now he was telling Will about the flowers and plants that grew in the lush garden.

 

'How do you know so much, Mr. Lecter?' Will asked again and again, amazed that his tutor knew the Latin names of all the butterflies and insects that fluttered around the flowers.

 

Hannibal continued his botanical lesson proudly, satisfied that his boy had such a thirst for knowledge. He was explaining the difference between a Sir Walter Raleigh rose and an English rose when Will gave an overjoyed little cry by his side.

 

'Oh, Mr. Lecter, look! A pond!'

 

Indeed, there was a lily pond ahead of them, and Will ran cheerfully to see it with little Winston trailing by his side. His eyes went wide when he saw the big, orange fish swimming slowly in the water, and he was about to ask his tutor what they were called when a voice asked behind him:

 

'Is Mr. Lecter your father?'

 

Will turned with a frown and saw two girls staring at him intently.

 

Mr. Lecter had walked up to them now, and he was greeting an old lady who was walking with the girls.

 

'Lady Beechworth, it is a pleasure. Good afternoon, Miss Alana. Miss Freddie'.

 

The girls greeted him politely, and Hannibal looked around with curiosity.

 

'Where is young Mr. Crawford?'

 

'Oh, I insisted that my nephew take riding classes every Friday' the lady said with a posh accent. And who is this young man?' she said wearing her spectacles to have a good look at Will.

 

'This' Hannibal said with pride 'is Will Graham. My ward'.

 

'My dear Hannibal' the lady replied taking him by the arm and strolling away from the pond 'You truly have a golden heart, taking care of these poor, unfortunate orphan children every year'.

 

That's all Will heard as they walked away, and he frowned as he didn't like the way the old lady referred to him. The two girls had been whispering something between them, and now they looked at Will with a mischievous smile.

 

'So you live with Mr. Lecter?' Alana asked.

 

'What is his evil castle like?' Freddie inquired.

 

'What castle?' Will asked looping Winston's leash around his hand.

 

'Mr. Lecter lives in an evil castle' Freddie continued 'Every child in London knows that'.

 

'Yes, and he is a wicked sorcerer who eats pupils for dinner' Alana said 'He will eat you very soon, like the ogre in _Puss in Boots'._

 

'What ogre? What are you talking about?' Will said clenching his fists in anger.

 

Alana and Freddie giggled wickedly, and they continued taunting Will to get back at Mr. Lecter for his painful caning.

 

'Mr. Lecter is an ogre who hates children' Freddie viciously continued 'He probably ate your parents and bought you at a fair for two pennies, like a little piglet. He will chop you and make sausages out of you very soon'.

 

'Yes' Alana whispered 'You would have been better off in the orphanage. Mr. Lecter has killed many children like you before, and he eats his hearts and lungs like Snowhite's stepmother and then feeds the guts to the dogs when—'

 

'Don't say those things about my tutor!' Will cried, and he pushed Alana so hard that the girl tripped down and fell to the pond.

 

'Aahh!' Alana cried 'Help me, _help me_!'

 

The anguished cries of the girl alerted all the passers-by, who flocked around the pond as Mr. Lecter and they old lady came rushing from their walk.

 

'You filthy, lousy orphan!' Freddie cried at the boy, who was trembling with barely contained anger 'I hope Mr. Lecter makes soup with you tonight!'

 

'Liar!' Will said pulling his pigtails 'Mr. Lecter loves me very much!'

 

'No, he doesn't!' Freddie cried pinching him hard.

 

'Yes, he does!' Will replied, and both started to fight right there, slapping and punching each other as the they rolled into a ball on the grass.

 

By then, Mr. Lecter had already rescued Alana from the pond, and the old aunt had fainted and was being helped by a gentleman in a frock coat, who uncapped a flask of smelling salts in an effort to have her come to.

 

'Stop this immediately!' an old nanny said pulling the kids apart 'How dare you behave like this, you're no better than little beasts!'

 

'He started!' Freddie cried 'It's been all his fault, he attacked me!' Her pigtails were a mess and her nose bled, dripping red droplets of blood on her blue dress.

 

'Liar!' Will exclaimed 'You said-- you--' Will was so angry and frustrated that he couldn't finish the thought 'Winston, bite her!'

 

The puppy bared his teeth and started to bark at the girl, who ran away pursued by the dog.

 

'What's going on here?' Mr. Lecter said, half-wet and disheveled from helping Alana.

 

'Sir, are you the father of this creature?' the nanny said pointing at Will with disdain 'I hope you cane him raw for this. What a scandal' she spat, and left with an indignant huff.

 

Will's eyes filled with tears at the cruel words of the nanny, and his bottom lip trembled as Mr. Lecter watched him, arms akimbo and a stern look on his face.

 

'I'm sorry, Mr. Lecter' Will whispered, and right at that moment, Winston returned with a chewed bit of blue cloth between his teeth.

 

'Let's go home' was all that Hannibal said, and Will rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, tears trickling down his cheeks as he followed his tutor down the gravel path.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

The house smelled of freshly baked plum cake and cinnamon when they finally arrived from the park, and Will's stomach gurgled noisily. Hannibal closed the main door and left his hat and walking cane on the coat stand.

 

'Go to the bathroom, Will' he ordered.

 

'B-but Mr. Lecter--' the boy started, and Hannibal lifted a hand in warning.

 

'Bathroom. Now'.

 

Will obeyed, watching as Winston barked happily down the corridor to the kitchen. He climbed the stairs one step at a time, and started to strip off his brand new Sunday suit when he got to the bathroom. The white sailor uniform was well and truly ruined. It had a tear on the trousers, and mud and grass stains all over the jacket and collar. Even the white shoes were soiled and muddy, and Will felt his eyes brimming with tears as he left it all neatly on the table. Mr. Lecter entered then, and started to run a bath in silence. He had changed his clothes too, and now only wore a white shirt and vest and comfortable wool trousers.

 

'Enter the tub' he instructed, and helped Will as he put one foot and then the other into the warm, soapy water. Hannibal watched his dirty, naked body moving, still too slim and immature for his age. He got a bar of soap and worked a rich lather to wash his boy's hair, massaging his scalp thoroughly to wash all the blades of grass away.

 

'I'd like to know what happened at the pond, Will' he said pouring warm water over his curls and repeating the process 'Will you tell me why you pushed Alana and got into a fight with Freddie?'

 

Will frowned at the whitish foam on the water and said nothing. He pouted for a while, and in the end he muttered:

 

'They were saying horrible things about you'.

 

'Oh' Hannibal replied lifting an eyebrow 'What things?'

 

Will's frowned deepened.

 

'They said' he hesitated and started again 'They said you were an ogre. That you ate children and that-- that you were going to eat me'.

 

Hannibal couldn't help a surprised chuckle when he heard that.

 

'Is that what they said?'

 

'Yes, but there's more' Will said looking at him for the first time since his tutor entered the bathroom 'They said you killed my parents and that you bought me from a pig farmer and that you'd make sausages out of me for dinner'.

 

Hannibal laughed then, an honest laughter that Will couldn't understand and frustrated him even further.

 

'But Will. You know those all those things are not true. Why did you let them get to you like that?'

 

'Because I hate lies!' Will exclaimed punching the water of the tub and splashing a bit over Hannibal's vest 'And those girls were lying and insulting you and--' he whimpered and looked away 'You said William meant _warrior_ and _protector_. I wanted to protect you, Mr. Lecter'.

 

Hannibal stopped his ministrations and looked at his boy for a long moment. He had been quite upset about the scene Will had made at the park, selfishly thinking on how poorly it would reflect on his reputation. He thought it had all been just a childish fight, but now he realized there was more to it than met the eye.

 

'And she' Will hiccuped 'The redheaded girl, s-she said-- she said that you didn't lov-ve me'.

 

Will started to cry then, sobbing and rubbing his tears away with his wet hand.

 

'Oh, Will' Hannibal left the soap bar and used the washcloth to clean his face 'You know I love you. Very much'.

 

'Y-yess that's what I told h-her b-but she wouldn't believ-ve me' he whimpered, and eyed the ruined uniform on the table anxiously 'Will you send me back?'

 

Hannibal put the washcloth away and held his boy's face between his hands.

 

'Will, you need to understand. I will _never_ send you back to the orphanage. No matter what you do, or what you say, I will _never_ do it. You have my word of honour, as a gentleman and as your legal guardian. You're my ward until you come of age, and you'll live with me here until you grow up. This is your home now, and will always be'.

 

'But Mr. Lecter' Will said with his little confused frown 'I don't want to leave, even when I'm eighteen. I want to live with you forever'.

 

Hannibal chuckled warmly and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

 

'Well, I won't live forever, dear Will. But when I'm gone this house and all I have will be yours'.

 

'No' he said pouting and grabbing his arm tightly 'You'll stay with me. _Always_ '.

 

'Let go, Will' Hannibal snorted amused 'I need to finish washing you'.

 

'No' he stubbornly pouted 'I'm not letting you go. You won't go away, you'll stay with me'.

 

Hannibal couldn't help another chuckle at the innocence of his boy, who held on to his arm steadfastly so that he couldn't get away from his grip. In the end he let go, though, and Hannibal washed his beautiful body with as much care as tenderness. When he was done he helped Will out of the tub, and toweled him off lovingly.

 

'Mr. Lecter' he whispered as Hannibal helped him with the socks 'You don't think I'm “a creature”, right?'

 

Hannibal paused minutely, and remembered the cruel words of the old nanny at the park.

 

'Of course not, Will. You're a noble, kind boy, bright and talented'.

 

'And—' he trembled slightly 'You're not going to, hum, “cane me raw”, are you?'

 

'I will never, _ever_ hurt you, Will' he said getting one of the woolen sweaters the taylor had brought for the boy 'That old nanny was mean and callous, you should forget what she said'.

 

'And what would happen to the two girls in the park?'

 

Hannibal helped Will into a new pair of trousers and started to comb his boy's wet curls.

 

'I know their families very well, and I will make sure they know about their cruel and brattish behaviour. It's unacceptable and unbecoming of girls of gentle breeding, and they will get their just deserts'.

 

'I'd do it again' Will murmured clenching his fists and remembering their wicked taunts.

 

Hannibal left the comb and looked into his boy's eyes.

 

'No, you won't. And you won't send Winston after no one ever again. Those manners, however noble your intention, are also unbecoming of a little gentleman such as yourself. If somebody ever tells a lie again, you will pay no heed and ignore it. Don't you know the saying “Sticks and stones may break my bones my words will never hurt me”?'

 

'But Mr. Lecter' frowned 'Words hurt. Very much'.

 

'In that case, if you're upset about something you hear, you'll tell me and we'll talk about it'.

 

Will pouted but nodded reluctantly, and Hannibal stood pensive for a moment.

 

'On Monday I'll inquire in some private schools about joining their sports team. You must learn to channel your energy and--' Hannibal was about to say _aggression_ , but that wouldn't be fair on his boy 'Your _stamina_ in a more productive way' he said at last 'You're too young as they only accept boys of thirteen years old or older, but I know some of the headmasters, so it can be arranged. Would you like to learn how to play rugby, Will? Or soccer?'

 

'Really, Mr. Lecter?' he beamed 'Could I learn to play a sport?'

 

'Of course' Hannibal replied with a warm smile.

 

'And could I ride a horse Mr. Lecter? I like horses so much!'

 

Hannibal put a few drops of cologne on Will's curls and nodded. He hadn't thought of that, but riding lessons could be a good idea, especially considering how much Will loved animals.

 

'Definitely. I'll arrange everything next week, but now' he said looking at the reflection of his lovely boy in the mirror 'Now it's time for tea. Let's go down to the kitchen or Mrs. Gaskin's plum cake will turn cold'.

 

Will smiled and trotted happily down the stairs, sitting at the kitchen table and sipping the sweet milk that waited for him in a jug. He ate two slices of plum cake as Hannibal had a cup of Earl Grey, and as he watched him, the tutor knew there would be nothing he wouldn't do for his boy.

 

-

 

Dinner was always earlier on Fridays, and that evening Hannibal prepared a delicious cottage pie and lemon custard for dessert. He ate with Will in the dining room, and started to teach him proper manners at the table. At the beginning the boy was lost with so many rules -the napkin, the two different fork and knife sets and especially the butter dish, which he kept moving right and left- but he tried to make an effort for his tutor. He wouldn't drink wine, of course, so Hannibal poured him a very light weak beer to accompany the dinner. It was a feast for Will, who ate all the crumbs of the pie and helped himself to two servings of the lemon custard. Hannibal watched him eat with a fond smile, soon his boy would be fully recovered from the bad malnourishment of the orphanage, and he would grow so healthy and strong.

 

When dinner was over they moved to the library, where only a few days ago Hannibal had tried to play music for Will. The boy had fallen asleep, though, curled in the blue sofa out of sheer exhaustion, but today it wasn't that late, so Hannibal thought they'd have time for at least one musical piece before bedtime.

 

Hannibal opened the gramophone, but decided against Mozart in the end. On second thought, the short and lively dances of _The Nutcracker_ _Suite_ would more likely spur his boy's imagination, and so Hannibal picked the brand new Tchaikovsky record from his collection.

 

'Do I have to do something, Mr. Lecter?'

 

'No, Will' the tutor replied setting the record on the gramophone 'Just lie down on the sofa and close your eyes. The story that accompanies this music takes place during Christmas night, and there are children, toys, sweets, mice and fairies. I hope you enjoy it'.

 

Will did as his tutor told him, and he lied down on the sofa taking off his shoes first. He closed his eyes as Hannibal played the record, and the notes of the Miniature Overture soon filled the library. Hannibal smiled to himself as his boy frowned and kept very still, and he moved to his armchair to continue reading Carlyle.

 

Will started to smile with the first notes of the harp, and he giggled to himself when the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy started. He startled with the Russian Dance, grew sad with the Arabian one and mouthed and moved with the rest of the dances and final waltz. When it was over he opened his eyes in wonderment and looked around him as if he didn't know where he was.

 

'Mr. Lecter! Have you seen all that?' he exclaimed.

 

'See what, Will?' Hannibal said putting a bookmark on his book.

 

'I was-- I was _there_ ' he excitedly said 'It was a different place, full of colours and magic! There were toys, as you said, and a Christmas tree and many stars and children dancing and fish and flowers and everybody was happy and-- Did you see it?!'

 

'No, Will' Hannibal chuckled warmly 'That was all in your imagination. That's why I wanted you to listen to music, I knew it would be a stimulating experience for a boy of your... talent'.

 

'But then' he slightly frowned 'Then what I saw wasn't there? It felt so real!'

 

'You were daydreaming, Will. But the world you saw behind your eyes will always be there when you listen to the music again. And you can always draw what you saw'.

 

'Oh' he pouted, momentarily disappointed, but he quickly beamed up at his tutor again 'Can I listen to it again, Mr. Lecter? Please?'

 

Hannibal looked at the watch on the mantlepiece. It was almost time for bed, but _The Nutcracker Suite_ was barely half an hour long, and Will was so happy and excited that Hannibal couldn't say no.

 

'One more time, Will' he said leaving his chair to play the record again 'We'll listen to music every night from now on, so you needn't worry'.

 

'Thank you Mr. Lecter!' the boy exclaimed, and lied down again with a broad smile. He closed his eyes quickly, eager to re-live the fantasy world he had just discovered.

 

Hannibal played the record again and returned to his chair, but this time he didn't continue reading. He was content with watching his lovely boy on the sofa, smiling, humming, nodding his head to the music and giggling happily when a melody concluded. His innocence and potential were breathtaking, and for a moment Hannibal felt unaccountably sad. He had never loved anybody like he loved this boy, not even Abigail. The enormity of his emotions scared him, so he pushed the overwhelming mixture of fear, jealousy, lust and joy away and started to think what music he would be playing to Will tomorrow evening.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready for the **_final_** chapters? :D


	12. Chapter 12

Hannibal had been sleeping better this past week, but something warm and soft poking his thigh woke him up.

 

'What--?'

 

'Mr. Lecter' came the soft whisper.

 

Hannibal startled. Will was curled under the sheets with him, his heated, sweaty body rubbing up and down his thigh in an insistent rhythm. Hannibal felt for the matches on the bedside table and lit the oil lamp, seeing the boy come out from under the sheets anxious and disheveled.

 

'What are you doing, Will?' Hannibal asked with a frown.

 

The boy gave a one shoulder shrug.

 

'You said... said I should come to you if- if--' he pressed his thighs together and covered his crotch with his hands. Hannibal lifted a knowing eyebrow and pulled his hands away, lifting his nightshirt to reveal his infantile erection, hard and wet at the pink tip.

 

'I was having this dream and it was so good and when I woke up...' Will trailed off. He frowned confused and fisted the hem of his nightshirt impatiently. He didn't dare to touch himself, not after promising his tutor he would never play alone again.

 

'Can we play the tail game, Mr. Lecter? Please?'

 

Hannibal felt a warm satisfaction spreading through his chest. His sweet and lovely boy was finally obeying his orders and coming to him to satisfy his childish but very urgent sexuality. Hannibal rumbled proudly, and caressed his flushed cheek lovingly. The wild spirit of his boy was finally tamed, and he would no longer be the unabashed, amoral child he had rescued from the orphanage, but his innocent and meek ward.

 

'Of course, Will' Hannibal said with a wolfish grin, watching as his little lamb beamed up at him 'Today has been a very exciting day, and it's normal that you're feeling this way. I am very proud that you told me, you know this is what you must _always_ do'.

 

'Yes, Mr. Lecter' he nodded, and giggled happily as his tutor took his nightshirt off. Hannibal stripped off his as well, and when he was sitting naked in bed, Will moved between his legs and frowned at his crotch.

 

'Mr. Lecter, why is your dick so big?'

 

Hannibal was surprised at the naïve question, and couldn't help a tiny grin.

 

'Yours will be too, Will. When you grow up'.

 

'Oh' he said with a pensive pout, and before Hannibal could react, he leant forward and kissed his cockhead, flicking his tongue and circling it tentatively.

 

'Will!' Hannibal froze 'What are you doing?'

 

The boy sat up and looked at him as if he had just asked the most obvious and silly question in the world.

 

'Kissing you, Mr. Lecter. Like you kiss me'.

 

Hannibal watched in shock as his tender boy got comfortable between his legs and licked his cock again, swirling his tongue around the crown and squeezing the shaft in his hand to know what it felt like.

 

'It's very warm' he muttered 'But what is this fuzz?' he said pointing at the dark curls on Hannibal's crotch 'I have no hair down there'.

 

Hannibal was so disconcerted that he didn't know what to say, and he watched mesmerized as his boy resumed his lazy licking.

 

'When you grow up' he croaked out at last 'You'll have it too'.

 

'But I don't like it, Mr. Lecter' he pouted burying a finger in the soft bush 'I don't want to have all this hair'.

 

Hannibal groaned as Will moved his hand to nudge his balls, curiously inspecting them for a moment.

 

'Don't worry, Will' he breathed 'I'll shave you, always'.

 

The boy wasn't sure he understood, but he shrugged and continued mouthing around his tutor's cock. His mouth was too little to engulf the thick cockhead, but he tried sucking it inside a couple of times, making Hannibal fist the sheets at the sensation.

 

Only a moment ago, Hannibal had thought the boy's unabashed sexuality was finally under his control, but now he realized that would never happen. As much as he couldn't control his wild imagination and the wonderful worlds he created when he listened to music, Hannibal would never own Will completely. The enormity of his realization scared him, but he left the thought hanging there, coming back to the present moment as Will started to lap at the precum that was already oozing down his cock.

 

'That's it, Will' he instructed, feeling the boy's dribble mixing with his precum 'Put your hands around the shaft and lick the head just as you would with a piece of toffee'.

 

Will smiled as he remembered the delicious candy his tutor had bought him last week, so he redoubled his efforts and lapped at the moist cockhead eagerly, flicking his tongue in a candid teasing that only made Hannibal harder.

 

'Will' he breathed after a little 'You're doing very well, but you need to take it in your mouth, just as I do with yours'.

 

Will nodded and opened his mouth wide, baring his teeth and ready to make his tutor proud.

 

'Ah ah' Hannibal warned, stopping him before he could bite him 'Hollow your cheeks and suck gently. That is the right way to do it'.

 

Will frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then tried to do as his tutor said. It frustrated him that he couldn't get the mouthful in his mouth, so he tried his best and opened really wide. He couldn't help scraping the sensitive skin with his teeth, though, but he managed to suck the heavy cockhead into his mouth.

 

Hannibal groaned in pain, but the sight of his lovely boy like that made it all worthwhile. His mouth was stretched and stuffed to the limit, and he was trying to follow his tutor's instructions without much success. But his innocence and inexperience were breathtaking, and Hannibal gently guided his head to bob up and down his cock, teaching him with infinite patience and tenderness.

 

'Aggffht' the boy said choking immediately 'Let me try again, Mr. Lecter'.

 

Hannibal nodded in silence. Will's mouth was red and his lips swollen and sticky with precum, but he had a fierce look of determination in his face. He would see this through no matter what, so he nuzzled the taut cockhead again, licking the foreskin and tiny little hole for a while, until he took a deep breath to engulf it in his mouth again. And this time he got it, creating an unbearable suction with his little tongue and cheeks that made Hannibal moan. He let the boy continue with his efforts, feeling his exquisite virgin mouth until he couldn't take it anymore.

 

'Will' he whispered, sitting up and guiding his skinny, light body to lie on top of him. Hannibal manouvered him so that his head was nested comfortably over his crotch and his little dick and balls were right above his face.

 

'Haha!' Will giggled at the new position 'This is funny'.

 

Hannibal's hard cock was lying over his furry stomach now, and Will continued to lick it, a bit awkwardly as it was upside down now, but with the same carefree innocence as before. Hannibal opened his mouth then, engulfing his little dick and sucking hard.

 

'Ah!' Will gasped at the unexpected pleasure, as he hadn't imagined this could work both ways. He started to hump his tutor's mouth instinctively, bucking his hips and pushing into the wet heat as deep as he could go. Hannibal sucked in the childish erection eagerly, feeling it grow and throb in his mouth. It was so little yet so satisfying, and Hannibal devoured it with a blind urgency, feeling as Will's soft balls nudged his nose and his tender, immature body trembled on top of his.

 

Will was gasping now, covered in a thin layer of sweat and panting erratically. He could no longer pay attention to Hannibal's cock, overwhelmed as he was by the liquid heat around his dick. He continued to fuck his tutor's mouth fervently, seeking more of the unique sensation with the greedy selfishness of the child he was. A moment later he felt a strange vibration- Hannibal was humming all around him to increase his pleasure, and with a choked cry Will couldn't take it anymore. He went rigid and started to shudder, coming in a stream of pearly drops that Hannibal swallowed lovingly. It seemed to last forever, his whimpers and spasmodic shivers, but in the end it was over and he slumped over his tutor's body, breathless and lost in the ecstatic pleasure.

 

Hannibal licked his lips and gave a final kiss to the infantile penis, mouthing the soft little balls and helping the boy lie by his side.

 

'Do you feel good, Will?' he asked, watching in satisfaction the flushed face of his boy and his eyelids, heavy now with sleep and exhaustion.

 

'Mm-mh' he managed to murmur, resting his head on the pillow and cuddling up to his tutor.

 

Hannibal chuckled knowingly, and reveled in the fevered heat that radiated from his boy. He nuzzled his hair and left a trail of feather soft kisses down his shoulder, smelling his unique scent and murmuring a soft _Good night_. He propped himself on an elbow to guard his boy's sleep and make sure he was safe and protected, but after a while he started to nod and drifted off to sleep.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

It was a warm August day when Abigail left. She left a doll in her bedroom, a hairbrush in the bathroom and a letter on her tutor's desk.

 

_Dear Mr. Lecter_

 

_I'm sorry to deny you a proper farewell. During the three years I've been living with you, I've been the happiest girl in the world. I've learned so much, and I've grown in ways I could never have imagined. But I need to move on now, start a new life again. My life._

 

_I've taken £1000 from your account in the bank. Just a loan until you come and visit me in Paris. I know you'll find me. Please don't be sad._

 

_Abigail_

 

Hannibal spent that whole day sitting at his desk, smoking cigarettes in his navy blue robe and memorizing every word of Abigail's letter.

 

He had loved the girl, very much so. And during these years of nurturing education and unconditional care, he hadn't as much as kissed her. She was alive in a way Hannibal was not, and he had been content to watch her bright fire increase with every passing day. Until it was too late.

 

Hannibal kept her letter in a locked drawer of his cabinet, neatly folded and sealed anew. He never read it again, needless as it was as he had committed her words to his memory. But it became a heavy weight in his mind, a fresh and painful wound that would never truly heal. Abigail became a ghost in his tutor's mind palace, gliding from room to room with silent and quiet footsteps.

 

Hannibal woke up from the vivid dream with a start. His beautiful boy was asleep by his side, curled in a ball under the blankets and breathing peacefully. He was there, a warm and very real presence, but Hannibal couldn't help a cold fear gripping him. Maybe one day, when he grew up, Will would leave him too. Maybe one day Hannibal would wake up to find the house empty, with only the sailor suits and shoes to remind him of Will.

 

Hannibal couldn't bear the thought of finding another letter on his desk. He couldn't. He looked at his lovely boy and caressed his cheek softly, realizing he needed to take him now, this very same night. Because if Will abandoned him, at least Hannibal would have owned him, if only once. He had been delaying the final act with games and a very necessary training, but Hannibal suddenly knew he couldn't wait a minute longer. Otherwise, it would be too late.

 

He left the bed and moved to the bathroom with the oil lamp in his hand. His boy was too young and tender, and Hannibal knew there was bound to be pain and tears and maybe some blood tonight. But he couldn't bear the idea of hurting his boy, and so he opened the cabinet of the bathroom and looked for the bottle of Paregoric. The camphorated tincture of opium was widely used for its analgesic properties, and mixed with the petroleum jelly, it would help to mitigate the pain of his boy's first time.

 

Hannibal picked the jelly jar from the shelf, and there he saw Abigail's brush. He smiled sadly at the memories it brought, snorting a moment later when he remembered the tail game he had played with his boy. But he wouldn't be needing the brush tonight, or any other night. Hannibal caressed its thick handle one last time and locked it in a drawer.

 

Will had woken up when he returned to the bedroom. Hannibal left the oil lamp on the bedside table and Will blinked at his tutor, stifling a yawn and rubbing his eyes.

 

'Mr. Lecter' he murmured 'What time is it?'

 

Hannibal didn't answer, he simply sat on the bed with his supplies.

 

'I'm going to teach you a new game, Will' he said thumbing his boy's soft cheek 'You said you wanted to play the tail game before, but this one is so much better'.

 

'Really?' the boy said, shaking off sleep and paying attention 'I love the tail game, Mr. Lecter. How is this one called?'

 

Hannibal smiled at the unclouded innocence and trust of his boy.

 

'This game has many names, Will' he muttered 'I hope you give it your own'.

 

Will giggled excitedly at the riddle, and got on his hands and knees ready to play. Hannibal opened the jar of petroleum jelly and added a full dropper of Paregoric, mixing it all well until the jelly got a slight amber colour. He left the jar on the pillow and started to nuzzle his boy's pert ass, caressing the soft skin with his lips and laying many kisses up and down his cleft. Hannibal was hard and impatient with lust, but he was determined to make this first time as sweet as possible for his lovely boy, so he parted his cheeks and run the flat of his tongue around his tender hole.

 

'Ah!' Will gasped, because he loved it when his tutor kissed him like this. He folded his arms on the bed and rested his head over them, sticking his ass out to give him better access. Hannibal felt the tiny hole relaxing and tongued it avidly, lapping around it and teasing it open with the tip of his tongue.

 

'Will' he whispered closing his eyes and inhaling the unique scent of his boy. He could feel his childish erection begin to grow again, and he wiggled his tongue inside the pink opening playfully. He teased his boy for a while like that, licking his hole and fucking him with his tongue in a quick rhythm that had Will pushing back eagerly.

 

'No' he whined when Hannibal gave him a final wet kiss 'I want more, Mr. Lecter'.

 

Hannibal grinned with a dark desire, and he felt for the jar he had left on the pillow.

 

'Ill give you more, dear Will. So much more'.

 

Hannibal dipped his fingers in the jar and scooped a good dollop of the creamy ointment. He then rubbed it around the wet opening of his boy, slicking it further and sliding the tip of his finger inside. Will was so relaxed that he didn't tighten up, so Hannibal pushed his finger all the way in, watching mesmerized as the little virgin hole sucked it all inside.

 

'Ohh' Will moaned, and Hannibal didn't move his finger. He just left it like that to let his boy grow used to the feeling and give the tincture time to kick in. But only a moment later he was shocked to feel his boy clenching insistently around it. It was not just an involuntary spasm of his tight hole, Will was squeezing his finger and pushing back to create the friction his tutor was denying him. The old wave of jealousy blinded Hannibal then, and he pushed the tip of a second finger into his hole, breaching it briskly so that Will couldn't take control of his pleasure.

 

'Nghnn' he groaned, staying very still as his anus stretched to accommodate the second finger.

 

'Sssh' Hannibal soothed 'You're doing very well, Will. I know it hurts a little, but you need to be a big boy for me and take it'.

 

The boy nodded and took a deep breath, and Hannibal continued his relentless finger fucking, pushing his thick fingers inside and watching as the rim of his boy's anus became red and distended.

 

'There' he said when they were fully sheathed inside him 'I'm so proud of you, Will. I'm going to stretch you now, real good. This little hole needs to be loose and open for what's coming'.

 

And so saying, Hannibal started to scissor his boy's anus open, adding more ointment and working his greedy hole until it was beautifully swollen and puffy. The tincture was definitely taking effect, as Will's muscles felt less tense and pliant, and for a moment Hannibal was tempted to add a third finger. It would be lovely to see how it filled his boy's tender hole knuckle by knuckle, and the whimpers he would made would be exquisite.

 

But Hannibal couldn't hold back any more, and Will was as ready as he ever was going to be. A perverse thought that in this way the boy would feel him _better_ convinced him, and after wiggling his fingers inside him one last time, he pulled them out with a wet and slick _pop_.

 

'Lovely' he murmured watching the puckered sphincter, so slippery and sleek and ready to take him.

 

'On your back now, Will' he instructed, because he had long decided that the first time would be like this. He wanted - _needed_ \- to see the face of his boy as he lost his innocence with him, and devour each and every little wince and whimper he made. The penetration would be deeper in this way too, and Will would be all meek and pliant beneath him.

 

'I don't understand' he whispered assuming the position, and Hannibal watched satisfied as his stiff little dick was leaking a clear fluid.

 

'You will' he said getting his legs up and placing his ankles on his shoulders. He leant forward to lift his boy's ass more, putting a pillow under it to make him more comfortable and have a better angle. Will was beautiful spread wide like that, his skinny, immature body a joy to behold under Hannibal's powerful frame.

 

'I'm-m scared, Mr. Lecter' he whispered, his eyes wary and fearful of the new experience.

 

'Don't be' Hannibal said with a warm smile 'I only want you to feel good'.

 

He started to rub his moist cockhead up and down his boy's crack, and Will half-closed his eyes in pleasure. The wet tip nudged his little balls very gently, and every now and then it rubbed so good along his own hard little dick. But the best was when it teased his opening, pressing but not quite pushing into his reddened hole.

 

'Oh... oh' Will moaned, pushing his hips up and trying to hump his tutor's cock. It was very hard and leaking too, and Will watched wide eyed as two veins bulged and throbbed along the shaft. He remembered thinking he didn't like the fuzz on Mr. Lecter's groin, but now it tickled him every time his tutor rubbed himself against him.

 

Hannibal continued teasing and edging his boy with playful little thrusts that never really got to breach his anus, and after a while Will was flushing and sweaty again. He tried to push back whenever he felt his tutor's thick cock over his anus, and whined in frustration when he pulled back.

 

'I don't like this game, Mr. Lecter' he grumbled breathlessly 'You don't let me win'.

 

Hannibal chuckled at the innocent pout of his boy.

 

'You want to win?' he said grabbing his cock and pressing the tip to Will's hole.

 

'Yes' Will replied, with such a fierce and obstinate frown that Hannibal once more remembered he could _not_ control his boy. And it was a good thing he couldn't, because Will was Will like this, wild spirited and stubborn in his childish selfishness. Hannibal felt himself teetering on the brink of his overwhelming desire to claim the boy and the generous humility of giving him what he wanted.

 

_Teetering._

 

'Very good' he whispered with a visible effort, rolling on his back and sitting up on the bed 'You win, Will'.

 

The boy was confused for a moment, then giggled excitedly as his tutor rested his back on the headboard and patted his lap.

 

'Come here' he instructed, and Will straddled his lap with a triumphant smile, positioning himself a bit awkwardly over his tutor's cock.

 

'Easy now' Hannibal said thumbing his boy's cheeks open and nudging his hole with his cockhead 'Sit down... Slowly'.

 

Will nodded, looking very serious all of a sudden as he let himself down on Hannibal's engorged cock.

 

'It hurts' he hissed as the thick tip breached him, and he pulled himself up quickly.

 

'Sweet Will' Hannibal cooed kissing his forehead 'I know it does, but try again'.

 

Will shifted his position then, putting his knees on both sides of Hannibal's thighs and leaning forward. He put his hands flat on the bed and buried his head on his tutor's chest, lowering himself down again as Hannibal grabbed his cock for Will to sit on it.

 

'Mmmnngg' he groaned as the tip pressed against his tender hole, but this time he pushed down a little more, wanting to impale himself despite the painful burn. He was almost there, and Hannibal clenched his teeth tight, the pleasure was so exquisite that he couldn't help to push up, feeling as the infantile anus gave and his cockhead slipped finally inside.

 

'Owiee Mr. Lecter' Will gasped, and his eyes filled with tears 'It hurts too much'.

 

'Hush' Hannibal said holding his boy as he started to tremble 'You're doing very well, and you're making me so very proud. Take a deep breath and relax, the pain will fade away, trust me. I could never hurt you, Will'.

 

'Yes, b-but' he sobbed 'It won't fit, it's too big'.

 

'Yes, it will' Hannibal cooed, grabbing the creamy ointment and slicking his shaft with it 'And it will feel real good. Now sit down little by little, like you were doing before'.

 

Will sniffled his tears and grabbed his tutor's shoulders, inching himself down on his cock with a low, throaty groan.

 

'Why is it so big?' he muttered punching Hannibal's chest weakly. Hannibal remembered that he had planned to buy several plugs for his boy, and now regretted forgetting all about it.

 

'You'll get used to it' he soothed kissing his boy's curls and spreading his cheeks even further 'Practice makes perfect, remember?'

 

Will nodded and winced as he managed to sit half-way on his tutor's cock. Hannibal could feel the virgin hole of his boy throbbing spasmodically around his shaft, tight and stretched to the limit with the thick penetration. After a little it was obvious Will was too exhausted and chaffed to continue like this, and he slumped over his tutor's chest, gasping and panting in a sweaty ball.

 

'Mr. Lecter, I... I can't'

 

'Don't worry, Will' Hannibal muttered lovingly 'I'll take care of you now'.

 

Hannibal hugged his trembling boy with infinite care, and led him to lie on his back on the bed, just as he had been a while ago. His cock popped out in the process, and the absence of the heavy pressure made Will loose control of his body.

 

'Oooh' he cried in shame, watching as several drops of urine splashed on his belly 'I'm so sorry, Mr. Lecter, I'm—'

 

'Dear Will' Hannibal said with a fond smile 'Remember I like messes'.

 

He put his boy's ankles on his shoulders again, and before Will had time to react he penetrated him again, slowly, carefully, pushing in with as much tenderness and sweetness as he could.

 

The boy moaned again, but the new position didn't put so much strain on his muscles, and so, little by little, he was able to relax and take his tutor's cock.

 

Hannibal moved at an excruciatingly slow pace, feeling his boy loosen at last around him. He pulled out a moment to check there was no blood, and added more ointment to the puffy hole, thrusting inside with a little more force now.

 

'Touch yourself, Will' he instructed as he pushed deeper and deeper inside 'It will feel better'.

 

Will seemed hesitant at first, and he frowned in confusion at his tutor.

 

'You have my permission' Hannibal encouraged, and watched as Will's hand grabbed his limp little dick. The boy seemed to be ashamed at first, probably because of the drops of urine, but he soon started to masturbate quickly, happy to be doing this again after his tutor had forbidden it.

 

Hannibal smiled and continued to fuck him in short thrusts, moaning in triumph as he finally managed to slide balls deep inside him. He put his hand over his lower belly to feel it more intimately, and sure enough, the boy's belly filled and swelled as Hannibal pushed his cock all the way in.

 

'Nghgn' Will moaned, fisting his dick faster 'I feel like- I'm- I--'

 

'Let go, Will' Hannibal purred with a knowing smile 'I want to see you ejaculate for me'.

 

Will didn't probably hear him, because he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth tight, his hand stroking his dick in a fevered rhythm that had him shaking uncontrollably all of a sudden.

 

'Ah!' he cried opening his eyes wide, because as he climaxed his tight hole clenched arounds his tutor's cock, and the feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt. The mixture of pleasure and pain was overwhelming for the boy, but also for Hannibal, who fucked him through his orgasm and felt himself climaxing a little later.

 

'Will' he moaned coming deep inside him, his balls pulsing and his cock throbbing in the most intense orgasm he had ever had. It took him a breathless moment to recover, and when he did he felt the skinny legs of his boy trembling. His mouth was half-open and whimpering, and his hand splattered with a whitish spurt from his spent little dick. Hannibal took Will's hand to his mouth and licked it clean, savouring his boy's unique taste and rumbling in satisfaction.

 

'Ow-ooow-ooowwww' he groaned when Hannibal pulled out at last, his red, swollen hole twitching painfully sore.

 

'Mr. Lecter?' he gasped in confusion, because his tutor wouldn't let go of his legs.

 

'Bear down, Will' he said watching his beautiful gaping hole 'Push it out for me'.

 

Will didn't very well know what his tutor meant by that, but he did as he instructed and started to feel a warm trickle oozing down his hole.

 

'Good' Hannibal encouraged 'That's my seed, I want you to taste it'.

 

Will strained a bit more and sure enough, his overstretched hole started to ooze a thick and creamy amount of semen, which Hannibal scooped with one finger and brought to his lips.

 

Will lapped at it with a focused expression on his face, licking his tutor's finger and letting out a mischievous giggle.

 

'Mr. Lecter' he breathed 'I already know how I'm going to call this game'.

 

Hannibal let his legs go at last, lying by his boy's side and propping himself up on his elbow.

 

'Oh. Do tell me, please'.

 

Will smacked his lips and smiled.

 

'The rocking horse game'.

 

Hannibal chuckled lightly and kissed his boy's forehead. He spooned him from behind, and Will cuddled up to his tutor cozily. They were both asleep in no time at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, guys. I've caved to your suggestions and I'm going to write a tiny little EPILOGUE for this story, so you'll all see Will as a young eighteen years old man. But that will be it. It's been amazing to share this universe with you, but all good things must come to an end... and I have so many other series to update (◡‿◡✿)


	14. Chapter 14

EPILOGUE

 

_'Pardonnez moi, Monsieur. Nous arriverons à Paris très bientôt'._

 

' _Merci_ ' Hannibal said with a nod, and the conductor closed the door of the luxurious train compartment. The journey from Calais was taking longer than Hannibal had expected, and Will had started to doze off when they changed trains at Boulogne. Somewhere around Amiens he had fallen asleep, and he was curled in the velvety seat in front of Hannibal now, breathing peacefully with that little pout of his lips.

 

Hannibal knew he should wake Will up. They'd be arriving at the Paris station shortly, but he loved to watch his boy sleep. Will had turned eighteen only a few weeks ago, but to Hannibal, he would always be his boy. So beautiful and handsome, especially now that he had come of age.

 

Will's birthday party had gathered the cream of the London society, and all the guests had enjoyed a magnificent soiree that lasted well into the small hours of the morning. Will looked stunning in his brand new green suit, and the burgundy silk puff tie Hannibal had chosen for him only made him look more elegant. He entertained the guests politely, and wore with great pride Hannibal's gift, a golden pocket watch carved in gold that his tutor had bought at the luxurious Bentley & Skinner, the goldsmiths of the royal family.

 

Will's eighteenth birthday was a memorable occasion, but the day had also been tinted with a quiet sadness. Hannibal had long decided he would no longer tutor any more pupils after Will, and that he would retire when the boy came of age. Will had tried to make him change his mind, arguing he was not that old yet and that his experience and reputation made him the best tutor London had ever known. He was right, but Hannibal was adamant in his decision. Will had surpassed all his expectations, growing into a young man of excellent education, clever, polite and sensitive. He was Hannibal's greatest achievement and legacy- there could be no one else after him.

 

Hannibal consulted his watch and put it back in his vest pocket. He didn't regret his decision. His life as a private tutor had been rich and rewarding, and he contemplated the prospect of living as a retired gentleman with a placid tranquility. But there was still one thing he needed to do before retiring.

 

The train changed tracks and the compartment swung noisily, making Will startle in his sleep. But after a muttered _mnmshnn_ he continued sleeping, and Hannibal smiled fondly. His boy slept so soundly that few things ever woke him up, and Hannibal had learnt to be patient with him early in the morning.

 

'Oh, Mr. Lecter' he used to slur when Hannibal drew the curtains of the master bedroom 'Just a little more'.

 

'It's time to start the day, Will' Hannibal always said, but allowed him some extra time in bed as he got dressed with his usual neatness.

 

The lessons routine continued for five years, and Will learned everything his tutor taught him. Arithmetics, Geography, History, Literature and even Botanics. They never returned to Latin, at least not to the translations, but Will learnt enough to understand the scientific names of almost all the plants and flowers in his books. His talent with Arithmetics was outstanding, and although his handwriting never turned perfect, Will became a passionate reader, and devoured all the books in his tutor's library in less than two years.

 

When Will turned seventeen his home education came to an end. There was nothing more Hannibal could teach him, and so he suggested that Will spend his last adolescent year studying at Oxford. Admission wouldn't be a problem, and Will could then decide if he wanted to study a full career when he turned eighteen.

 

The suggestion had not been well received.

 

When his tutor started to talk about it one evening during dinner, Will had the horrific certainty that Hannibal didn't want him anymore. It was absurd and preposterous, but Will felt so scared that he was being rejected after all these years that, true to his old habits, he disappeared for a full day. “Running away” in that particular way was something Will had done a few other times while growing up, usually after an argument or when his emotions got the better of him. He always returned home, though, and to his tutor, and this time was no different.

 

'I'm sorry' he apologized the next morning in the library, and Hannibal hugged him long and tight.

 

'Will, you can go to Oxford if you like. There are several careers you could study there, and I'm sure you would excel at Law or Sciences. But it's your decision, and you know I won't force the issue. I only want what's best for you, and I will respect whatever decision you make'.

 

Will spent a few days thinking about whether he wanted to study to get a university degree, but in the end he decided against it. He had got to know the academic life at Wetherby, the public school where he had learnt to ride, and he didn't like it. And lest of all, he couldn't stand the attitude of the posh and snobby kids who studied there. Will hadn't made a single friend in the years he had spent getting riding lessons, so he knew he wouldn't like it in college.

 

Besides, he didn't want to leave Hannibal. Will wanted to live with him, always. He had meant it once and he meant it now. His tutor had become his whole life to him; he was his guardian, friend, teacher and lover. And Will wanted their relationship to last forever.

 

'I don't want to study at Oxford, Hannibal' he said one day during breakfast, because ever since his home education was over, Mr. Lecter had become _Hannibal_ to him 'During this year, I'd like to continue learning horsemanship and classical dressage. Maybe get _Chester_ ready for a show hunter'.

 

Hannibal watched him for a long moment, then he nodded gracefully. It saddened him beyond words that his bright and talented boy wouldn't pursue a university career, but time and again he had learned there was no controlling his wild spirit. Horses, and especially _Chester_ , had been Will's only friends for the past years, and the boy loved training and looking after them. It was a hard lesson for Hannibal, one that took him many weeks to come to terms with. But whenever he thought about raising the issue once more, Hannibal reminded himself that Will had to make his own choices. That's what his education had granted him, the opportunity to learn and become his own person.

 

'Trot' Will muttered in his sleep. He was obviously dreaming about _Chester_ , and Hannibal smiled.

 

His boy was an accomplished rider, but there had been many accidents –big and small- throughout the years. Will got a sprained wrist the first time he tried to saddle _Chester,_ and broke his arm when he fell off the horse during a bad storm. But he had bonded with his black Hackney in a unique way, especially since his beloved puppy died. Winston developed a bad tumor in his stomach when Will turned fourteen, and it consumed his life in little less than a month. Will had begged Hannibal to put his dog to sleep before Winston suffered any longer, and Hannibal had obliged, getting his old medical bag and being as gentle as he could. They had buried the pet in the garden, and Will had been inconsolable for a full week, barely eating any food and weeping in his sleep.

 

But there were many happy memories from when Will was younger. The first time Hannibal took him to a concert at the Royal Albert Hall, the boy was so ecstatic that he laughed and danced and jumped on his seat. They went to many concerts from then on, and to operas and other recitals that never failed to spark Will's imagination. Mrs. Gaskin grew fond of the boy eventually, and she taught him how to cook traditional English food. And so, when he finished his lessons with Mr. Lecter, Will spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, rolling pastry and baking plum cakes that he later presented with a proud smile to his tutor.

 

However, the two weeks of summer holidays were among Hannibal's fondest memories. They spent the warm days of August in Brighton, where Will learned to swim in the sea. He looked lovely in his full body striped bathing suit, and he spent many long afternoons catching crabs with his little net. Hannibal bought him Brighton rock candy and took him to the funfair every night, where Will cheered overjoyed as he got on the Carousel Horses, Waveswingers and Revolving Chairs.

 

There was only one thing that Hannibal missed from those early years, and that was grooming and washing his boy in the bathroom. He remembered him splashing water in the bathtub and waiting to be dressed in one of his sailor suits, sitting on the table and beaming at his tutor full of trust and innocence. Now they only did one thing together in the bathroom. Hannibal had been true to his word, and when after the first year together Will recovered from the malnourishment of the orphanage and hit puberty, Hannibal shaved him every week, leaving his crotch nice and supple and completely hairless. And Will loved it. He was more sensitive like that, and the feel of his tutor's straight razor gliding over his groin was enough to get him hard.

 

The games they had played, Hannibal thought with a little grin. The games they would still play.

 

Hannibal picked his silver cigarette case from his coat pocket and lit a long, thin cigarette. He smoked slowly, watching the suburbs of Paris through the window as the train approached the station. When the conductor knocked on his door again, he put the cigarette out and woke Will up.

 

'Will' he said squeezing his shoulder 'We've almost arrived'.

 

'Mmhnm' Will said stifling a yawn and sitting up at last. For a moment he looked lost, as if he didn't remember where he was, but then he looked around and frowned.

 

'Oh' he grumbled, and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

 

'Will' Hannibal sighed 'What's wrong?'

 

'You know what's wrong' the boy replied with his usual stubbornness 'But I won't discuss the issue anymore'.

 

Indeed, since Hannibal had told Will he was planning a trip to Paris to meet Abigail, the boy had been constantly arguing with his tutor. Bitterly, sometimes.

 

'I've been thinking about why you feel this way' Hannibal said after a while.

 

'Well' Will replied with a pout 'It's very easy, really. I don't like Abigail and I haven't even met her'.

 

'I think' Hannibal continued unperturbed 'You're jealous'.

 

'What?' Will scoffed, offended and outraged at the idea 'How can I be jealous when I hate her?'

 

'Not jealous of _her_. Jealous of how I felt about her when she was my ward'.

 

Will's frown became deeper, and he kept a stubborn silence. He had learned that his old tutor _always_ won _all_ the arguments, and as he felt a wave of blood rushing to his face, Will knew he would no doubt win this one too.

 

'I loved Abigail very much, Will. As a father loves a daughter. You know this, I've told you whenever you asked. She was fourteen when I first met her and she left after three years of--'

 

'She hurt you, Hannibal' Will interrupted clenching his fists in anger 'She abandoned you and stole your money. Why you want to see her is beyond me, but I will _never_ forgive her'.

 

Hannibal remembered that time when his boy had gotten into a fight with two wicked girls who spoke badly of him. His fierce loyalty and love humbled Hannibal, and he let out a long sigh before saying:

 

'I only want to say goodbye. And I wouldn't have planned this trip if you were not by my side'.

 

 _There_. Will knew he had lost, because there was genuine emotion in his old tutor's voice. He left his seat and sat with him, cuddling up to him and resting his head on his shoulder.

 

'I came with you because you needed a protector for the journey, that's all'.

 

Hannibal snorted lightly.

 

'A protector?'

 

'Sure. Paris is such a dangerous city. You need a warrior who can defend you from all that French pastry and Montmatre Bohemians'.

 

Hannibal couldn't help a chuckle, and Will smiled mischievously at him. The train was stopping already, but suddenly Will straddled his old tutor's lap and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

 

'Will!' Hannibal said tensing up 'You know the rules, and we're-- We're already in Paris'.

 

'Exactly' he replied with a glint in his eye 'That's why I'm doing this'.

 

Hannibal looked blankly at him, and Will smiled warmly.

 

'Paris is the city of love' he said, and captured his tutor's lips in a long and loving kiss.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End ^-^


End file.
